


Rituals & Consequences

by wickerwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Bad Dumbledore, Gen, Political Alliances, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickerwolf/pseuds/wickerwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wizarding Britain knows Harrison Potter survived the Killing Curse on October 31, 1981. Dumbledore thinks it's because of his mother's sacrifice based on love; the followers of Voldemort don't care as they just want the boy dead; and the rest of the world celebrates since Voldemort disappeared that night. In the non-magical world, October 31, 1981 is known as the date of the death of Lord James and Lady Lily Potter and the disappearance of their son, Harrison. Potters, Ltd has become a force for locating and returning missing children to their families, but they have been unable to locate the one they truly seek, Harrison James Potter, Earl of Gryffham and the head of the family. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and in ritual this manifests as consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday, July 16, 1991

**Author's Note:**

> WickerChair and mmagicwolf do not claim any work or characters from Rowling though we do claim all OC's and changes done in this story. AO3 will be hosting our story and the chapter lengths will vary considerably as we will be releasing one "day" per chapter. If anyone wants to read the weekly chapters that are released during the weekend, please go to fanfiction to find us. Due to our work, we have promised one chapter per month, though we have usually managed one chapter per week so far. Please understand that our weekly releases average 1,000 to 2,000 words per chapter, if readers prefer long chapters, we recommend that you stay on AO3. This story will be updated on AO3 once per month until we run out of finished chapters and then the release will be sporadic as we are in the middle of writing the story and we do have a life that can and will get hectic at times.
> 
> Warning: This story is a multi-threaded alternate universe. This is not a crossover, but many original characters who will be involved in their own subplots will interact with canon characters.

Chapter One: The Birthday Boy  
Sunday, June 16, 1991  
The telephone rang at 4 Privet Drive a few minutes before nine in the morning. Petunia Dursley picked up the handset and spoke sweetly, “Dursley Residence. … You did? … Oh dear. Well, we'll find someone else to take care of it.” She hung up and turned an angry face to her husband Vernon, “Arabella can't take the boy. She broke her leg. We'll have to take him with us to the zoo.”  
Before Vernon Dursley could reply, heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Wake up! Wake up! It's my birthday, today!” yelled a whiny voice from the stairs, punctuating each sentence with the thud of jumping on the stairs. Followed by the appearance of an eleven-year-old boy about four and a half feet tall and almost that wide. He thundered into the dining area to examine his birthday presents. Dudley Dursley resembled nothing so much as a whale with arms and legs, but his intellect was not as great. He examined the stack of presents set to one side of the table and laboriously began to count them. After counting the presents twice, he glared at his father, “Thirty six, there are only thirty six! That's two less than last year.”  
“Darling, did you count the one from Aunt Marge in the living room?” asked Vernon.  
Dudley's face compressed itself into the scowl of an oncoming temper tantrum, but was interrupted by his mother, “Popkin, when we go to the zoo, we'll get you two more presents, okay?” Dudley's features compressed in thought rather than rage as he tried to calculate then cleared as his mother told him, “Thirty nine, that's one more than last year. Thirty nine presents for my darling boy. That's one more than last year.”  
Vernon chuckled fondly, “That's my boy, wants his money's worth.”  
Harrison James Potter carefully removed two slices of bacon from the skillet and carefully turned the remaining to allow them to crisp. His grimaced at the exchange behind his back, his cousin could not even do the simple addition of thirty seven plus two. Sighing, he turned the bacon over and placed another two slices of toast in the toaster. Perhaps he would get lucky and he would get a full meal this morning, but it seemed unlikely. He usually suffered for Dudley's temper tantrums, but maybe they would leave him behind and he could finish his homework that the teacher had been demanding.  
–O–  
“What are we going to do with him?”  
“We can leave him home.”  
“Vernon, there isn't anyone to watch him,” reminded Petunia.  
Vernon muttered a moment then said, “We'll just have to take him with us.”  
Dudley's clearing features immediately crumpled in anger. “I don't want him to come with me to the zoo! Daddy, tell him he can't come.”  
Fortunately for the peace of the household, the doorbell rang announcing the arrival of Piers Polkiss and his mother. Piers was as skinny as Dudley was fat, but they were best friends; Piers would chase smaller children down and hold them while Dudley punched them. Mrs. Polkiss left and the two boys returned to the kitchen.  
Harrison looked down at the bacon, pulling it from the skillet just before it burned and wondered about the zoo. Pictures were fine, if only in the books at school, but the most interesting animal he had encountered had been a salamander. No animals dared enter the yard surrounding the Dursley home; he had never even seen a ladybug on Petunia's flowers, and he would know, after all he was the one who took care of the yard.  
Placing the bacon and hash browns on the table, Harrison returned to the stove to get the sausages, eggs, and fried tomatoes. All were placed on the table followed by the toast rack. The two slices of bacon and the slice of toast that got too dark were to be his breakfast. Vernon and Petunia were silent as they ate their breakfast, but Dudley and Piers squabbled over who had gotten a larger serving of eggs. Vernon settled the argument by placing another half-spoonful on Dudley's plate.  
–O–  
Harrison walked to the car, half anticipating the zoo and half dreading the outing with the Dursleys. He had changed into his second-best outfit, a marginally better fitting shirt and pants that were only seven inches too big in the waist and two inches too short, Dudley had outgrown them four years ago. This pair of pants was wearing thin, but if they wore out he would be forced to wear the pair of pants from when Dudley had turned nine. That was an awful pair of orange trousers that Aunt Marge had sent for Christmas the year that Dudley turned eight; they were the right length, but so heavy and hideous that Dudley had refused to even touch them.  
“Don't even think about doing anything, boy,” growled Vernon as Harrison was about to get into the back seat.  
“Yes, sir,” replied Harrison. “Er, no sir,” he amended as Vernon scowled. He hoped nothing would happen today. He wanted to go to the zoo and pretend that he was actually a part of a family. Not that he knew that much about families, but he occasionally dreamed of a laughing red-haired woman and three men who smiled back at her. If he wanted to pretend that the Dursleys actually cared about him, perhaps he would feel like he did in the dreams; safe and loved, but that was a lie and he knew it. He just needed to pretend every now and then, before being thrown back into reality and hell.

 

Chapter Two: Luncheon with the Animals  
The drive to Chessington Zoo was only half an hour long, which Harrison saw as a blessing. Dudley and Piers were just starting to get bored with the new pinball game that Dudley had received as a birthday present and as the last candy in the bag of sweets was peeled and tossed into Dudley's mouth just as the car entered the carpark. Harrison had been scared that Dudley would use him to relieve his boredom and then something would happen, something strange. The last time Dudley had him cornered, he had tried to jump on top of the rubbish bins behind the school, but ended on the roof with no clue how he had gotten there.  
The teachers had yelled at him for going somewhere forbidden, and Vernon had beaten him and locked him in his room for a week. Worse, when he returned to school, it was to find that the work he had missed was to be counted as undone and he would be given no chance to do it. Worst of all, of course, was that his now failing grade removed his library privileges for the rest of the term and he was forced to remain in class with Dudley sitting directly behind him “to keep an eye on him.” “Fist or foot, more likely,” had grumbled Harrison under his breath, but knew better than to say it aloud and just gritted his teeth.  
“Out, boy!” growled Vernon, “and no funny business!”  
Harrison nodded and got out of the car, almost instinctively avoiding the kick Dudley sent his way to hurry him along. Dudley's toes impacted the side of the car and he yelped.  
“Boy!” hissed Vernon.  
“I did not wish to be kicked, sir,” said Harrison.  
Vernon casually struck out with a fist and clouted Harrison on the ear. It was still early so no one saw what happened except Dudley and Piers who both laughed. Petunia heard the laughter and said, “Duddykins, Piers, come along now, if we hurry we can get candy floss before they start feeding the tigers. You wanted to watch that didn't you?”  
–O–  
Harrison followed the Dursleys plus Piers through the entrance gate of the zoo. The lady watching the turnstiles handed him a map and stamped his hand to indicate that he had a paid admission. Harrison smiled at the mark on his hand, perhaps he could go see the reptiles first. Once through the turnstiles, Dudley started whining about his promised candy floss. A purchase of two large packages of candy floss later, Vernon led the way to the tiger exhibit.  
Dudley wanted to see the tigers being fed, so Harry followed, keeping enough distance between himself and the Dursleys to avoid being punched, kicked, poked, or slapped. When Dudley and Piers got bored with watching the tigers, the group moved on to the primate area. Dudley and Piers watched the monkeys swinging from the branches in their enclosure, but soon wanted more excitement. Dudley poked Piers, “Hey, what can we throw at them?”  
Piers looked around, but saw nothing nearby, which Harrison thought a relief. He wanted to see the reptiles next, but he was doomed to disappointment.  
“The aquarium!” demanded Dudley, “I want to see the sharks.”  
“I don't know if they have any sharks,” said Vernon.  
“I want to see sharks! Or at least killer whales!” insisted Dudley.  
“Let's go to the aquarium and see what they have,” soothed Petunia.  
Harrison followed, carefully aware of the distance between himself and Dudley. Harrison also read the plaques for the animals and habitats that they passed but did not pause to see. He wanted to go into the aviary, but it was not on the way to the aquarium and was therefore skipped. The aquarium was fascinating to Harry, the cool blue light after the bright sunshine outside soothed the senses, but he was jolted back to attention by an elbow in the ribs by Piers.  
Not five minutes after they had entered the aquarium, Dudley started complaining, “Daddy, I'm hungry.”  
“We're going to see the sharks, remember Popkin?” saidd Petunia.  
“When are we going to eat?”  
“As soon as we've seen the sharks,” said Vernon  
“Do they have anything good to eat here?” asked Piers, not really hungry, but playing along with Dudley; besides, he had no interest in sharks.  
“Yes, we will go and get dinner in the restaurant after the sharks,” said Petunia.  
The sharks were duly examined. “They're not doing anything. Daddy, make them do something interesting. When do they feed them? I wanted to see them being fed. Mummy, I'm hungry.”  
“Yes, Popkin, we are going to the restaurant now,” said Petunia.  
–O–  
Harrison eyed the walls of the restaurant with interest. The murals had monkeys and other animals peering out of the jungle foliage. Yet even more impressive to Harrison was the menu. He was actually going to eat at the same time as the Dursleys. He read the menu, considering what the Dursleys and Piers would probably select. A waiter approached and asked what they wished to drink. Vernon ordered sodas for everyone except Petunia, who had a sparkling water. Harrison would have preferred water or milk, but did not wish to call attention to himself. The waiter returned with the drinks and Vernon ordered two full-size cheeseburgers with chips, two vegetarian burgers, and a child's cheeseburger. The waiter nodded, repeated the order, and left.  
–O–  
“Daddy,” whined Dudley, “I'm hungry.”  
“Dudley, my boy, the food will be here any time. Look, here comes the waiter now,” said Vernon.  
Harrison had already seen the waiter approach and was startled at the tray the man carried. He had never seen such large hamburgers, and there were enough chips to keep even Dudley occupied for a few minutes. Even the child's cheeseburger was larger than he was accustomed to seeing. Dudley got such things when he went out with his parents, but all Harrison ever got was the wrappers that Dudley discarded on the table beside the couch.  
The waiter placed the vegetarian burgers in front of Vernon and Dudley, only to be stopped by Dudley's, “Daddy, you promised me a cheeseburger!”  
Vernon glared at the waiter who exchanged the vegetarian burger for one of the adult cheeseburgers, placed the remaining food on the table without attempting to determine whose food was whose, and hurried away.  
Harrison was handed the plate with the child's cheeseburger on it, and he prepared to cut into the burger.  
“Not yet, boy,” growled Vernon, “Dudley might want some of it.”  
Harrison's stomach dropped, but he nodded and said, “yes, sir.” He carefully cut the burger in half, and then one half in half again and began to eat the quarter. The burger was juicy and delicious, but he was only able to finish the quarter before Dudley was reaching for the other half of his burger. He took the second quarter and ate more slowly, wishing that he had a glass of water. Dudley had finished the other half of Harrison's burger and was working on his fries when the waiter returned.  
“Please, sir,” said Harrison, “may I get glass of water?”  
“And a refill of my soda!” demanded Dudley.  
The waiter returned with the requested items. Harrison thanked him and drank some of the water, but Dudley just jabbed his straw into the drink.  
“What will you have for dessert?” asked the waiter.  
“Two large ice cream mountains, two regular ice cream mountians, and the boy will have...”  
“Profiteroles,” supplied Harrison, “they're small, sir.”  
“Profiteroles,” confirmed Vernon.  
The waiter nodded, he was pretty sure who was going to get the large ice cream mountains, perhaps the chef would be willing to put a small scoop of ice cream with the profiteroles, the smallest boy seemed the only polite one in that bunch.  
Dessert was duly served, with the two large ice cream mountains being placed before Vernon and Dudley. Petunia eyed hers, realized that Vernon was likely to eat at least half of it in addition to his own, and began to eat. Harrison's eyes bulged at the size of his own dessert. There were only twelve small profiteroles, but they had been stacked into a hollow pyramid, with caramel tracery holding them in place and a small scoop of ice cream on the side. Harrison admired the sculpture a moment, then reached out and broke off the top profiterole.  
“Daddy, his dessert is bigger than mine!” complained Dudley before reaching over and grabbing the next profiterole down. He popped it into his mouth and grimaced. “It's all air! You can keep it,” he grumbled before resuming his attack on his mountain, more a volcano now as the top had been removed and most of the center was gone.  
Harrison was allowed to finish his dessert in peace (two pokes from Piers on one side and a glare from Petunia for the low yelp that the almost unconscious kick from Dudley elicited) and he neatly folded his napkin to the side of his plate. Today had been good so far, a tally of five punches from Dudley and a half dozen pokes from Piers was fewer than normal, perhaps the rest of the day would be as good. Harrison wasn't counting on a good day, but it couldn't do any harm to hope, could it?

 

Chapter Three: Conversations with Intelligent Beings  
A large group of kids accompanied by several adults entered the restaurant just as Dudley was polishing off the remains of Piers' dessert. “Those snakes were awesome!”  
“Yeah, did you see the way it swallowed that mouse? Awesome!”  
“The guide said that they feed them all while they're on display, maybe we can go back when they're feeding the constrictors.”  
Agreement rose from about half of the group with the other half declaring they wanted to feed themselves.  
–O–  
“Daddy, can we go watch the snakes being fed?” asked Dudley. “I want to see a snake crush a mouse! Maybe they'll even feed it a rabbit.”  
“Yes, Popkin, we will go to the reptile house next.”  
The Dursleys, plus Piers, hurriedly left the debris of dinner behind, although Harrison gave the waiter an embarrassed shrug in passing and received a nod in return. At least his portion of the table was clean. Harrison figured it would take several minutes to remove the dropped blobs of food from Dudley's culinary peregrinations (stealing other people's food), and he had noticed several candy wrappers had mysteriously appeared on the floor beside Dudley, Petunia must have sneaked him a couple to maintain the peace until the food arrived.  
The waiter examined the table, noticed the same things that Harrison had, but sighed and went to warn the busboy before he approached the birthday party group that had just entered. They at least seemed well-behaved, and hopefully would provide a bonus for good service.  
–O–  
The reptile house was underground, something that Petunia did not appreciate. She passed as quickly as she could through the building and told Vernon, “I'll meet you next to the gift shop on the other side.”  
Vernon nodded at her, glared at Harrison, and pointed out the false water cobra, indicated by the plaque next to its habitat.  
“It's boring, Daddy. I wanted to see them feed the snakes.”  
Vernon looked along the wall and hurried Dudley and Piers to the window looking into the habitat of the Sri Lankan python.  
Harrison looked at the false water cobra and murmured, “You would think that he had not eaten in weeks, everything revolves around food and feeding.”  
“Well, young sir, I thought he was a tapir; they are always thinking about their next meal. Even in the middle of their current one.”  
“A tapir? What is that?”  
“A tapir is a large mammal with a prehensile nose; the young have horizontal stripes, but the adults are solid colored. They are good eating for a jaguar, but I couldn't eat one; I prefer small rodents, they don't struggle as much.”  
Harrison glanced up at that comment, but saw no one nearby, he had thought he had missed the approach of a zoo guide, but the only thing in sight was the snake. “You can talk?”  
“Of course, I can talk. The question is, can most people understand? And the answer, young sir, is no.”  
“Boy! Get over here,” yelled Vernon.  
“Sorry, I must go,” apologized Harrison.  
The snake murmured, “The adult tapir bellows, or perhaps it is something else? No matter, good to speak with you, young speaker.”  
–O–  
While Vernon had his attention distracted, Dudley was busy thumping on the glass, trying to get the Sri Lankan python to move. He completely ignored the sign, “Do not touch or tap on the glass.”  
The python lounged on a large branch, ignoring the small rabbit that hopped below it in the wood shavings. The python also ignored the rude visitor who was trying to get her attention. All of her attention was on the approaching figure; there was a distinctive aura to those who could speak to snakes, and this one approaching seemed to have it. “Do you understand speech, young sir?” she asked as the boy approached.  
“Yes,” he replied in a low voice, “but these?” he pointed at the Dursleys and Piers and shrugged.  
“Stop whistling, boy!” roared Vernon. “Unless you think that it will get this blasted snake to move?” He produced a piercing whistle that sent the rabbit hopping away, but the python remained still.  
“Daddy, it isn't doing anything!” whined Dudley. “Make it move!”  
“Tell it the Jamaican Boa is eating his rabbit. I prefer not to eat in public,” advised the python.  
Harry nodded, “Sir, perhaps one of the other snakes is eating; I understand that the Jamaican Boa might put on a show.”  
Dudley immediately grabbed his father's hand and dragged him along the wall, “Let the freak watch this snake do nothing, I want to see blood.”  
“He'll be doomed to disappointment,” murmured the python. “We crush our prey into an unrecognizable mass before eating, but perhaps he will find that amusing.”  
“Probably,” replied Harrison, “but hopefully it will not give him too many ideas.”  
“Ideas, young sir?”  
“Ways to torture me, I mean. Dudley and his friends make a game of chasing me and then beating me. They call it 'Harry Hunting.' They seem to find it less amusing when I am able to avoid them.”  
“Have you no protector, young sir?” asked the python in astonishment. “No speaker should be without protection; it violates the rules set forth by Kali for us. We snakes are always supposed to protect the speakers. You are still young, how many rains have you seen?”  
“Rains?” asked Harry, “I will be eleven at the end of July.”  
“Ten rains? Your protector must be going mad trying to find you. Speakers and protectors connect shortly after the speaker first speaks.” her tongue flicked out and said, “Your pardon if I seem impolite, but that rabbit looks tasty, do you mind if I eat while we talk?”  
“Of course not, ma'am.”  
Her head bobbed in thanks and hissed, “Wonderful, and such a polite little speaker you are!”  
Harrison could hear the smile in her voice. While he looked on, she struck with lightning speed at the hapless rabbit, threw her tail around the rabbit twice and squeezed. She opened her jaw widely, dislocated the hinge, and worked her head over that of the rabbit. Within seconds, the rabbit's head was halfway down her throat.  
Dursley chose that moment to arrive and yell, “Hey, freak! Why didn't you tell me she had killed the rabbit?” The question was punctuated by a shove. “I wanted to see her start eating it!”  
Harrison fell against the glass and stared up at Dudley, his glasses had fallen to the ground and the bridge had broken cleanly in half. He squinted up at Dudley, but was unable to make out more than a pale blur in the light from the snake's habitat. He was not pleased that his conversation with the python had been interrupted, it was the first intelligent conversation he had experienced since the last trip to the school library.  
Dudley was too busy yelling at Piers and Vernon to come and see the snake eating to notice where he was putting his feet. A crunch told Harrison that his glasses were now beyond repair. Harrison's frustration grew as Vernon and Piers who shoved him aside in their rush to see the snake eating. Harrison was fortunate that he fell next to the glasses, but the broken frame dug into one of his palms. Ignoring the pain, he gathered the pieces of the glasses and tucked them into the pocket of his pants.  
Reluctant to be stared at while she was eating, the python released her tail from the rabbit and climbed back up onto the branch, the rabbit hanging out of her mouth. Dudley and Piers started pounding on the glass as soon as she turned her back, trying to get her to show off as she ate.  
Harison heard a muffled, “Be quite, you foolish human. Do you not understand that a lady does not like to be watched as she eats?” and started giggling.  
“What are you laughing at, boy?” demanded Vernon.  
“Maybe she does not like an audience as she eats,” said Harrison.  
“Are you crazy, boy?” roared Vernon.  
“No, but your other two boys are,” said a reptile keeper who had come in. “I was cleaning some of the cages, and I've never heard such a racket in my life! Can't you read? No tapping includes pounding. It might cost my job if snakes bit someone after the glass broke; but you, sir, would almost deserve being bitten for failing to control your brats.”  
“Please sir,” asked Harrison softly, tugging at the man's sleeve, “are the snakes okay?”  
“The snakes are fine, son, but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what these other two boys are thinking. Pounding on the glass when the sign next to the glass plainly states, 'Do not touch or tap on the glass' is the action of an idiot.”  
Vernon blustered about it all being a mistake and the boy's fault that his son had not seen the snake eating, when the python finished her meal and turned back to the glass.  
“I am Silsilah. I like you, young speaker, but I do not like these others.”  
“I am Harrison. Please, do not do anything too hasty, Vernon would love to have an excuse to punish me again.”  
“Very well, young speaker Harrison,” said Silsilah, “but...” The python raised her head to stare at Dudley intently. Then lifted the front third of her body from her position on the branch, shifted her weight forward and struck at the glass.

 

Chapter Four: A Strike, Four Fools, and You're Outta Here!  
Dudley and Piers leaped back squealing in unison, and Vernon yelped, but the reptile keeper just laughed as Silsilah's nose stopped an inch short of the glass. “That's Rashmi for you, she has never really liked attention, especially rude attention.”  
“That was a false strike?” asked Harrison, who had managed to put one of the lenses from his broken glasses over an eye to see.  
“Yes, indeed. Rashmi does that every now and then. She seems to know exactly how far she can extend her strike so that she does not strike the glass. Well if these three are done in the reptile house, I will go back to my duties. Would you like to see the incubation room?”  
Harrison's agreement was drowned out by Vernon's anger, “There is no way that you are going to take that boy and show him something that my son and his friend are not invited to see! The very idea is ridiculous! All he did was cower on the floor, and you want to reward him? Are you mad?”  
The reptile keeper glared at Vernon, said, “You, sir, are an idiot and a fool,” and left the room through a door that Harry now saw was concealed in the wall of the room.  
Vernon gathered Dudley, Piers, and Harrison together and herded them toward the gift shop where Petunia was waiting. Dudley was crying, “I just wanted to see the snake eating, but the freak made me miss it,” by the time they reached Petunia.  
“Oh, my sweet Duddyums, what's wrong?” cooed Petunia, then turned to snarl at Harrison, “What did you do, boy? And where are your glasses?”  
“I did nothing,” said Harrison honestly, “and Dudley stepped on my glasses and broke them.”  
“Liar!” hissed Vernon. “You did something to that snake, I don't know what but you did something.”  
I did something? fumed Harrison silently, I talked to the snake, but you weren't there when I had the conversation, and neither was Dudley. I did not pound on the glass or annoy her. Anyway why is everything my fault? “How is it my fault that Dudley broke my glasses?” he asked. He knew better; he really did, but the question slipped out and Harrison inwardly cringed. His questions were always punished in the Dursley household, always.  
“Boy! Go to the carpark now. Sit by the car and wait for us,” ordered Petunia.  
“Yes, ma'am,” said Harrison obediently and turned away.  
“And no funny stuff!” ordered Vernon.  
“No, sir.” Harrison left the Dursleys plus Piers to their day at the zoo while he went to the carpark to wait.  
–O–  
As Harrison left the zoo, the attendant at the gate gave him a note. He slipped the note next to the pieces of his glasses and hurried to the car. When he was safely out of sight of the gate, he unfolded the note and read the message. “When you come back, tell the attendant that William told you to ask about Rashmi.” Harrison smiled and refolded the note. He would remember.  
It was hot in the carpark, a lack of water made waiting for an indeterminate time almost unbearable, but Harrison had practice. Being locked in his room forced him to practice some form of meditation to make time pass more bearably; not that he called it meditation, but such it was. Harrison sat in the scanty shade of the Dursleys' car and proceeded to attempt to remember all of the plaques he had seen in the zoo. He pulled out the map and marked each spot he had been able to read the plaque by pressing the paper with his fingernail. He was surprised to see that he had gotten to see almost a third of the zoo, but not the wolf enclosure that lay partially atop the reptile house, not the safari exhibit that made up almost a third of the zoo. According to the back of the map, the safari exhibit contained almost thirty species of animals. Harrison wished he could have gone with the Dursleys, but he was accustomed to unfairness.  
Harrison was already mapping out his route for his next visit, despite not knowing when that visit might be. Nonetheless it occupied the time and he reviewed all he knew about the various animals marked on the map from sources at the school library. He had just considered all he knew about Grey's zebras when he heard the commotion. Judging from the sound of things, something had happened and it boded ill for him.  
–O–  
Harrison stood up and looked across the carpark toward the front gate of the zoo, and giggled at the sight of who was now leaving the zoo, despite having to use both hands to hold the parts of his glasses to his face. All of the Dursleys plus Piers were wearing teeshirts that announced they were visitors of the Chessington Zoo, but it was the clothing on the lower half of their bodies that had Harrison giggling. Petunia looked almost normal despite the brilliant turquoise walking shorts that flashed from beneath the teeshirt. Dudley was attired in a pair of camouflage shorts that combined the most bilious shade of green and two shades of brown that could only be described as new dung and old dung. Piers had a bright pink pair of shorts that had contrasting neon yellow flowers. But it was Vernon who was truly ridiculous. He was wearing two sarongs in lime green with brilliant orange, red, and yellow flowers. They were knotted at each hip to provide some coverage and hung like a skirt to below his knees. Vernon also carried two bags marked “Chessington Zoo Gift Shop” at arms length. The raised voices as the group approached the car were easily comprehensible, but gave no clues at to what happened. Harrison had no idea of the explanation for the display and was smart enough not to ask.  
“They should have posted a sign!” roared Vernon.  
“Oh! My poor Duddykins, your Daddy will see that we can come back to the zoo for free,” cooed Petunia.  
“Daddy, I don't like the zoo! I want to go home now!” sobbed Dudley.  
“Oh, my darling Popkin, your Daddy will get the zoo to pay for this,” said Petunia.  
“Darn right they will,” roared Vernon. “I can't believe that they don't have the right size for a real man.”  
Piers' raised voice chimed in, “I wanted to see the lions!”  
“I wanna go home!” shrieked Dudley, “I wanna go home now!”  
As the quartet approached the car where Harrison waited, they scowled in unison. “It is all your fault, boy,” hissed Vernon.  
Harrison was caught off guard enough to ask, “What is my fault?” before cringing internally and shifting out of range of Vernon's fists.  
“Everything!” hissed Vernon. “Now get in the car.”  
–O–  
Harrison was seated in the middle of the back seat, between Dudley and Piers who each had a window. All four windows of the car were rolled down and the trek homeward began. Harrison's stomach churned at the stench coming from the two boys and the bags behind him. The airflow in the car seemed to concentrate all of the aroma around him, but he knew he had to endure. Being sick in the car would give Vernon another excuse to punish him and had already provided enough of those by asking questions.

 

Chapter Five: Injury to Insult  
Harrison managed to get home without becoming physically ill, but it was a close thing. His determination not to provide Vernon with another excuse for punishment and his empty stomach contributed greatly to his self-control, but so did his experience with jobs such as cleaning the Dursleys' bathrooms, especially after Vernon had been out partying with his coworkers at Christmas.  
When they arrived at 4 Privet Drive, Dudley and Piers rushed for the front door and shoved past Petunia as soon as she had unlocked it. Vernon scowled between the front seats, “Take those two bags to the laundry and clean them. Got it, boy?”  
“Yes, sir,” responded Harrison carefully, trying to let his stomach settle. Harrison carried the two bags into the laundry area and opened one. The shirt that Dudley had worn to the zoo was covered in what could only be fresh dung. Harrison winced at the smell and dropped the contents of both bags into the sink and ran water over them to remove the worst of the filth. Then he dropped them into the washing machine and set it for the longest cycle.  
Knowing the habits of the Dursleys, Harrison made a selection of sandwiches from the contents of the refrigerator. Six of the sandwiches two oranges, a pear, the end of the block of cheese, and two jugs of water completed his preparations and were surreptitiously placed in the cupboard under the stairs, indicated as his room by the sign just inside the door, “Harrison's Room,” He had made that sign in his Nursery class, and his teacher had been impressed with his writing skill. She didn't understand, because Harrison never told her, that it was to remind himself of his name. He had never been called anything but “boy” or “freak” before nursery school, and he found it difficult that first term to remember that his name was Harrison and to respond when it was called. Food requirements taken care off for the next week, week and a half if he was careful, Harrison emerged from his room.  
–O–  
Hearing the cessation of noise that indicated that the washing machine was finished, Harrison returned to the laundry to check on the clothes. They were mostly clean, so he put more soap into the machine and restarted it. He was back in the kitchen and preparing tea when Vernon came roaring out of the bathroom, “Who used all of the hot water?”  
“The freak did it, Daddy,” said Dudley, sneering from the floor of the living room where he was lounging with Piers watching television and eating a bag of crisps.  
“Boy! Room! Now!” yelled Vernon.  
Harrison quietly entered the cupboard under the stairs and sat down on the old mattress that occupied most of the floor.  
Petunia immediately locked the door behind him and hissed venomously through the vent, “You'll be lucky if you get out before summer.”  
–O–  
You would think that a cupboard under the stairs would be dirty from the dust of the stairs above, but such was not the case in this particular cupboard. The walls had been painted white at some time in the past, and Harrison had found the remnants of that paint in the garage and had repainted the walls until they were a brilliant white. Some light came from places where the riser and stair tread did not quite meet, but most of the illumination was from the grille in the door. Harrison found the dimness soothing; a feeling, not distinct enough to be called memory, of on a pale white light, a flash of mixed grey and brown, and warmth.  
The mattress was covered with a thin blanket, worn-out when it was received, but Harrison had managed to fold it in such a way that it provided adequate warmth in the summer. A pillow that everyone else in the household had declared too flat was tucked into the space between the end of the mattress and the lowest stair. A small stack of books, rescued from the rubbish bin at school were tucked away there as well, too far from the door to be seen by Petunia on the rare occasions she put her head into the door and in too small a space for Dudley or Vernon to reach.  
Knowing that he was to be confined for at least the rest of the day, Harrison extracted the map of the Chessington Zoo and the note from the attendant and placed them with his other treasures. He wished his glasses had not been broken, but at least his nearsightedness allowed him to read despite the handicap. After he was released from the cupboard, he would go to the optometrist and get another pair of glasses from the donation box, after all that is where he had gotten the ten pairs he had worn since nursery school.  
–O–  
Monday, September 10, 1983  
“Harrison, please read the last line of numbers on the board,” instructed his teacher.  
Harrison tried to make out the numbers, but couldn't distinguish any numbers in the blur of horizontal and vertical confusion. “I'm sorry, ma'am,” he apologized, “I can't make any out.”  
“Come toward the board until you can make out the numbers,” she instructed.  
Harrison willingly moved forward, interested in what she had been writing on the board. When he got to the front row, he smiled brilliantly, “One, cross, one, two horizontal lines, two, then some space, one cross two, two horizontal lines, three. Excuse me, is there another name for the cross and the two horizontal lines?”  
“The cross says plus and is called the addition sign. The two horizontal lines say 'equals,' or 'is' and are an equal sign.”  
“Thank you, ma'am. Then the board reads, one plus one is two; one plus two is three.”  
“Very good, Harrison, please be seated on the front row.”  
Harrison received an evil look from Dudley who was still seated on the back row; now his favorite target was out of reach.  
At the end of the school day, Harrison was sent home with a note for Vernon Dursley. The note read: “Dear Mr. Dursley, I do not know if you are aware that your nephew has trouble seeing the chalkboard. I, as your nephew's nursery teacher, recommend that you take him to the optometrist and get him a pair of prescription eyeglasses. Sincerely, Mrs. Smith.”  
~O~  
Monday, September 17, 1983  
“Harrison, where are your glasses?”  
“I don't have any, ma'am.”  
“Didn't your uncle take you to the optometrist?”  
“He said that freaks don't need glasses. He doesn't want to waste money. He says that I probably won't be any better than my drunk parents who died in a car crash. My aunt says that I should be grateful for a roof over my head and be quiet about needing anything extra.”  
“Harrison, please give this note to your uncle.”  
“Yes, ma'am. If Dudley doesn't rip it up.”  
This second note was similar to the first: “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I wrote you a note last week informing you of your nephew's difficulty in seeing the chalkboard. I recommended that you take him to get a pair of glasses. If you truly wish him to do better than his parents, as he informs me, please get glasses so that he can do the work required for school. Sincerely, Mrs. Smith.”  
~O~  
Monday, September 24, 1983  
“Still no glasses, Harrison?”  
“No, ma'am. Uncle Vernon yelled at me for telling you about my parents.”  
“Did you go to the optometrist?”  
“No, ma'am.”  
That evening two notes were sent home with Harrison Potter. The first said, “Dear Mr. Dursley, I am your nephew's nursery teacher and I would like to congratulate you on a very bright child. I would hate to see his intelligence squandered because he is unable to see the board and thereby follow along with the class. Attached you will find the note that I will be sending to my brother-in-law in the juvenile section of the police department. Please, take your nephew to get prescription eyeglasses immediately. The first few months of school are vital to learning the basics. Sincerely Mrs. Smith.”  
The second note was addressed to a Sergeant Smith at the police department of Little Whinging, Surrey and was painfully blunt, “I am a nursery teacher for Harrison Potter. This bright young boy lives with his aunt and uncle, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. They also have a son, Dudley, who is grossly obese. They have repeatedly refused to provide Harrison with eyeglasses so that he might see the board and therefore follow along with the rest of the class. The children show signs of what could be either neglect or abuse. Please investigate the matter at your earliest convenience.”  
Vernon yelled about spending money on the freak, but took him to the optometrist because it was better than displaying anything other than absolute normality. “Outrageous! Highway robbery! Absolutely ridiculous!” Vernon yelled when he returned home with Harrison wearing his new glasses. “Fifty pounds! Fifty! I ask you, have you heard anything so ridiculous? And he expects me to bring the freak back every six months!” Vernon rounded on Harrison. “Freak! If you break those glasses, you will have to find another pair on your own.”  
Harrison already understood that if anything happened to the glasses it would be considered his fault whether or not it actually was, so he asked his teacher what happened to glasses that were no longer needed. She recommended that he take them to the Lions' Club and place them in the donation box, there they would be distributed to needy children locally and overseas. Harrison asked for the address and she wrote it down in his notebook.  
~O~  
Wednesday, August 28, 1984  
Harrison traveled with Petunia to the Lions' Club and asked if it would be possible to exchange his glasses. After examining several, he found a pair that worked. He thanked the attendant and explained that it was difficult for his aunt to get time off to bring him. He was given the name of an optometrist close to his school that also collected used glasses for charity and a note to give the receptionist about the problem. He thanked her again and caught up to Petunia waiting by the bus stop.  
~O~  
Friday, September 13, 1984  
Harrison walked to the optometrist and talked with the receptionist. After looking at the note, she had him look at the eye chart and take a brief eye test without using the equipment. Satisfied that his current pair of glasses were adequate, she told him to come back at the end of term to check his vision again. “Your vision really shouldn't change that much over the course of the term, but it is better to check frequently, especially during your school years.” Harrison thanked her again and wrote down the need to come back in his school notebook.  
–O–  
Harrison had returned at the end of the term, and at the beginning of every subsequent term. The receptionist became accustomed to this small child who was so polite. She had no contact with his teachers, but she assumed that the child was near the top of his class, especially since he had started to read the magazines in the reception area on his second visit. She slipped in a few children's books with the adult news and nature magazines, but had never seen him open them. The nature magazines seemed his favorite. When asked why, he replied that there was a familiarity to some of the pictures in them.  
~O~  
Harrison came out of his reverie to the thumping of feet on the stairs. Piers must have gone home while he was lost in memories and Dudley was going to bed. It was the evening of Dudley's birthday and Harrison was never so glad to see a day end.

 

 

 

Authors' Notes: This is a result of the question, “How did Harry Potter survive? How was he able to bounce the killing curse?”  
A note on chapter titles: Most of the chapters get their titles from events that occur within the chapters. When posted here, the titles will each be explained. If you caught any of the inside jokes, congratulations and virtual chocolate chip cookies and cold milk (unless of course you are allergic to chocolate or milk, in which case warm fuzzies).  
Chapter 1: The Birthday Boy- This was the set-up, almost straight canon in feel, but from a different point of view.  
Chapter 2: Luncheon with the Animals- The Dursleys definitely do not act like humans. A horse, a walrus, and a young whale. Where is the human in this family?  
Chapter 3: Conversation with Intelligent Beings- Obviously, it wouldn't be the Dursleys.  
Chapter 4: A Strike, Four Fools, and You're Outta Here- Yes, it's a pun on the baseball umpire's call, “Strike three and you're outta here!” Fools is a twisting of baseball's fouls, and you can never be ejected for those. It's just one strike and four fools.  
Chapter 5: Injury to Insult- The original phrase is “Insult to injury,” but the reversed order is more appropriate.  
See you next time with another group of chapters,  
~ mmagicwolf and WickerChair


	2. Monday, July 17, 1991

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Six: Dreams and Nightmares  
Monday, June 17, 1991  
Harrison rarely remembered his dreams. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that Harrison never remembered his dreams. His dreams of a family that loved him had been killed long ago, only to be revived as hopes and butchered again. Dreams of embarrassing things occurring at school were his reality, so they held no place in his dreams. Flying, so common in children's dreams, was also repressed; severe punishment by Vernon for mentioning it saw to that. Vernon did not like Harrison to talk about his dreams, ever. It was the second fastest way for Harrison to be punished, right after asking questions.  
Thus the dream Harrison had the night after Dudley's birthday was unusual. Harrison remembered it in the morning; it was of two large dogs, one grey and the other black that took turns nuzzling him then rolling him over with their noses under the light of the full moon. A stag and doe walked out of the surrounding forest, but were not attacked as might be expected. Instead the four animals stood tall before him before disappearing in the thunder of Dudley descending the stairs.  
–O–  
Petunia came to unlock the door and tell him to get up and start breakfast. Harrison shrugged into his everyday clothes and went to the refrigerator to collect the supplies for breakfast. The list posted beside the refrigerator ended with a penalty of one stroke with the belt for each undone task. Harrison winced at the length of the list, Vernon must have decided that it was too much trouble to keep Harrison locked away in the cupboard when he could be given chores and an excuse for more punishment.  
Breakfast was prepared and while the Dursleys ate, Harrison started the tasks on the list. He got cleaning supplies from the laundry room, carried them upstairs to Petunia and Vernon's bedroom, stripped the coverlets and pillows from the bed, removed their slips, and placed the bare items in the wardrobe. He repeated the process in Dudley's bedroom and the guest bedroom. Then he moved into the bathrooms and retrieved the laundry collected for the past few days. A trip downstairs with the laundry and a load begun saw the end of breakfast and the washing of the breakfast dishes. Dusting and washing the ceiling, walls, and floor with interruptions for changing the laundry from washer to dryer, starting another load, and putting away the clean laundry, took most of the day. Replacing the bedding, he remade all of the beds and started on the bathrooms. Again the ceiling and walls were dusted and washed, the fixtures cleaned and the floor mopped. A glance at the clock informed Harrison that he had only five minutes to start preparing supper or it would not be on the table when the Dursleys returned, a punishable offense on its own.  
The list assured Harrison that he would receive at two stripes from the belt because he had not gone into the yard and mowed the grass with the rotary push mower nor had he weeded the flower beds in the front and back yards. Nonetheless he was satisfied that he would receive fewer this way because the inside chores had been listed individually so that any room skipped would have meant at least ten lashes. Supper was on the table when Dudley stampeded in the door, followed more sedately by Vernon and Petunia. As they sat down to eat, Harrison went outside and weeded the front and back flower beds. This was quickly done because they had been weeded only two days before. A quick pass with the mower around the edges to clean up the lawn and Harrison was done with his chores.  
Yet, when Harrison returned to the kitchen to wash up so that he could have his supper, Vernon had his belt out waiting for him. Appended to the list, between the chores that had been their that morning and the penalty had been added three new tasks. Vernon cheerfully handed out the three strokes of the belt and retired for the night, informing Harrison that he should do a better job tomorrow, because he was not getting any supper.  
Harrison crawled into his cupboard and lay down exhausted on his mattress. He was asleep almost before we was able to pull the thin cover over himself and fell headlong into a dream.  
A scream in the dark followed by a flash of bright green light. The comfort of familiar warm arms replaced by a stranger. The sensation of flying. Cold wind and a crescent moon overhead. Warmth that smothered rather than comforted, then stark cold. A scream of surprise, Aunt Petunia's voice. A murmur of comfort; a woman carrying a torch in the darkness, and a woman with red hair surrounded by three men, two with dark hair and one sandy brown. Two dogs, one grey and one black, and two deer, a male and female, walking out of the forest and into the moonlight followed by a woman carrying a torch that burned with a fire as pale as the moon.  
Harrison startled himself awake with the memory of flame, touched the scar on his forehead and fell asleep again.  
Two dogs playing in the moonlight. A small child lying between them. Danger approaching and the dogs bare their teeth and growl a warning. Peace returns and the child is safe between the two beasts. Then a flash of green and the child cries out.  
Harrison woke himself again with the murmur of “Mama!” too well trained to give full voice to the cry. Tears fell as he rolled over and cried himself back to sleep.  
The feel of two furry sides pressed against him brought comfort, but that was only a dream.

 

Chapter Seven: The Steadfast Wanderer  
Monday, June 17, 1991  
Remus Lupin woke up with a headache and his nose slightly creased from the book he had fallen asleep on. The headache was from insufficient sleep, but the book was a translation project for Mr. Chatham. He had fallen asleep just before dawn, and the nightmare had woken him up just an hour later. It wasn't unusual for him to have nightmares, but this one was different. It felt almost happy, like his cub was near, almost in scent range. He glanced up at the moon through the window of his flat, surrounded by books, calculations, and pieces of parchment and paper mixed together across his worktable and murmured a quick prayer to his patron goddess, “Keep him safe, Lady. I am still searching for him. Please, just keep him safe.”  
He glanced down at the sheet of paper before him and realized that he had fallen asleep halfway through calculating the effects of an anti-apparation ward and an alarm ward cast on the same location. He hoped it would be of use later, he had been working on a method to bypass the wards so that he would be able to pass through them without setting off the alarm. It would be useful when he had his cub back. But... He glanced at the clock. Another three hours until he was supposed to be at work at the zoo. Enough time to get another few pages translated. Mr. Chatham was one of his better customers for translated works, but Mr. Pickering had given his name to enough of his customers to keep Remus busy. The last twelve years had made Remus Lupin Mr. Pickering's favorite translator for ancient Middle Eastern languages.  
~O~  
October 18, 1978  
Three months after graduation, Remus entered Pickering and Chatto in muggle London in an effort to distract himself from his inability to get a job in wizarding Britain and recover his equilibrium from the latest full moon and his transformation into a wolf. Most of the city was too loud for his heightened senses, but the antiquarian bookstore had soothed him with its smell of old leather and the subtle scent of parchment and old paper, familiar scents from seven years in the library at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
He had found an old copy of Cicero and was reading leisurely when a middle-aged man approached him.  
“Eton or Oxford?” asked Pickering, late a group captain in the Royal Air Force, on seeing the speed with which Remus was reading.  
“A small school in Scotland and personal interest,” replied Remus.  
“Anything else that strikes your interest? I have this lovely Ovid that came in last month.”  
Remus smiled ruefully, “My interest outstrips my budget, I fear. This little gem,” he held up a volume in Arabic dating from the late fifteenth century, “strikes my fancy but is completely beyond my budget. I always enjoyed reading Al-Jayyani.”  
“You read Arabic as well,” asked a startled Pickering.  
“Only the old script, I'm afraid,” replied Remus. “The language after the seventeenth century changed so much that I must translate the idioms as well as the script.”  
Pickering's eyes lit up, “Can you translate that for me? I have a rough translation from another source, but it is always best to compare them. I can pay you a small fee, of course.”  
Remus shook his head in dismay, “I'm only here in London for the day, I'm afraid. It would take me at least a week to translate this. Especially if you want it in modern English.”  
“Can you work from photographs?”  
“Yes, sir. Just have them enlarged to the same size as the original.”  
Remus supplied the man with Lily's parents' address and left the store to tell Lily and the other Marauders his good news: He had found a part-time job at last. Also, he needed to warn Lily to expect a package from Mr. Pickering through the muggle mail service.  
Two weeks later, Remus received a package in the mail; it contained the promised photographs. Remus spent three days transcribing the writing on the photographs onto parchment and another five days to finish the translation.  
He returned the translation to Mr. Pickering with a letter thanking him for the photographs and enclosing a summary of the time spent on the translation.  
A week after that, a check arrived in the mail.  
Remus stared at the amount on the check in disbelief and bemusement. Now he had to go and get a bank account, maybe muggle bankers were more polite than the goblins, but he was uncertain. Hopefully Lily's parents could help him get a bank account in the muggle world.  
~O~  
Remus shook his head to bring himself back to the present and looked at the clock again. Two hours until he was supposed to be at the zoo. He glanced at the page of Arabic script, Paradise of Wisdom could wait until he got home. He needed at least another hour of sleep.  
An hour later, Remus had changed into his uniform for the zoo and left the flat. After crossing the communal garden and entering the copse of trees on the other side, he turned on his heel and apparated to the grove of trees next to the SHS Sports Ground. And walked to the front entrance of the Chessington Zoo. As Remus passed the attendant, he smelled something familiar. It was faint, but it tickled at the edge of his awareness.  
Remus took the back ways to the wolf enclosure to begin his day as an assistant to the wolf keeper. His boss, Roger Sheridan, was willing to accept that he did not work on the days around the full moon when he explained his religion required his absence those days. The fact that he was willing to work any other day and at odd hours with little warning helped with that decision. Roger was sad to hear that Remus would be leaving for an extended vacation of least two months in the middle of July, but Remus had promised that he would let Roger know if he would be able to come back after his vacation.  
Remus was looking forward to meeting his cub again. He would have to wait until July, but the Hogwarts letter would force Dumbledore to allow his cub back into the wizarding world. There was no other place than Diagon Alley to get all supplies for Hogwarts in one place. Remus planned to stay in Knockturn Alley from the middle of July until the first of September if necessary to ensure that he would find his cub. As soon as Remus had his cub, no one, ever, was going to take Remus' cub away again. He had killed before to protect his pack, and since his cub was all that remained of the Marauder pack, anyone who threatened his cub would suffer the consequences.  
Remus growled subvocally, shook his head and returned to the wolf enclosure. The faint scent at the gate this morning lingered in his mind, summoning up the memory of his pack-brother and his cub. When he entered the enclosure he was still in the awkward stage of holding on to his coat without knowing it.  
The alpha female of the zoo's pack approached him as he entered the den near the back area of the wolf enclosure, Hurting, Two-Legs? I am still teaching the cubs to hunt, perhaps you could join us tonight. Hunting soothes all hurt.  
My apologies, Mother, I miss my brother and my cub, and hunting would make the hurting worse, replied Remus. And proceeded to renew the bedding, change the water, then carried the empty bucket from the midday meal out of the den. Remus placed the eight rabbits that were to the wolves' evening meal into a cage and walked out into the public area of the enclosure. Two rabbits were placed in each of the four cages spread throughout the enclosure to await their fate at nightfall.  
He had gotten the wolf keeper to agree to live meals once per week so that they did not lose their hunting skills and could teach the next generation of cubs how to hunt. The cages had been prepared so that they opened three hours after the timer was set, and the wolves were allowed out of their den a half hour after that. The experience seemed to make the wolves happier, a fact that the wolf keeper noted in his paper accepted for publication in the Journal of Zoo and Wildlife Medicine about the advantages of using more natural feeding routines. Remus was glad that his boss was getting the credit, but had asked to not be mentioned in the article.  
His day's job over, Remus returned the cage to the feeding area, cleaned up, and headed toward the front gate. His usual path went through the safari area, but tonight his feet took him through the reptile house and smelled that scent again. Almost familiar, faint through the heavy overtones of human bodies and snake.  
Cub, whispered Mooney, My cub was here.  
Remus was too busy thinking about shopping for something for supper to listen to his wolf.

 

Monday, June 17, 1991  
Sirius Black stared at the wall of his cell. Nine rows of pale grey marks were arranged in a sequence of twelve, twelve, and thirteen, then the sequence repeated. A tenth row had only seven marks, and each time Sirius looked at that final row he remembered. Only five more months until his puppy would start school at Hogwarts. Each mark indicated a full moon, not that he could see the moon from his windowless cell. Nonetheless he knew when a month had passed. He would not be able to say what day of the week or month it was, or even what day in the lunar cycle, but the night of the full moon was marked by a change in his dreams. He wished he didn't have the ability to dream any longer, but part of being an heir to the House of Black was an intimate connection with the dream realm.  
~O~  
Friday, September 4, 1980  
“You guys need to get out,” urged Sirius, “I'll watch the puppy. You're beginning to look at the walls a little strangely.”  
James looked at Sirius, currently sporting purple and green striped hair, “This morning wasn't enough for you, Padfoot?”  
“Prongs,” retorted Sirius, “you know what I mean. You two have been disappearing for hours at a time, and it hasn't been because of the puppy or to go playing with each other.”  
“Sirius,” growled Lily.  
“What?” asked Sirius, then realized how Lily was taking that comment. “Sorry, Lily; I didn't mean that the way it came out. I meant you and Prongs have been up to something, and it's something that has been worrying him. Anything that can worry Prongs, worries me.”  
“Thanks, Padfoot, but this is personal.”  
“Prongs, if it has to do with the puppy, it's personal to me too. He's Prongslet. He's family like you, Lily, Moony, and Wormtail; he's mine to protect. Whatever our faults, Blacks protect family, my insane mother aside.”  
“Tell him, James,” said Lily, “You know he will pout and pester you until you tell him.”  
James nodded, “You see, Sirius. No, Sirius, don't joke. This is Marauder business, but it concerns something that Lily found in the library before Harrison was born.”  
“That was months ago, I knew I shouldn't have left you alone in there when you were nine months pregnant,” said Sirius flatly.  
“Sirius,” warned James, “would you be one of Harrison's godfathers?”  
Sirius paled, looked at Lily in terror, then looked at James. “Prongs, are you serious?”  
“Absolutely not. You're Sirius, Padfoot, but I am certain that I want you to be one of our son's godfathers.”  
“When?” gulped Sirius.  
“That's what I found in the library,” said Lily. “I want to do the old ceremony that calls on the protection of magic as well as that of law.”  
Sirius grabbed at the edge of the doorway and swayed. Before James could grab him, Sirius asked, “You're planning to call on Hekate aren't you, Lily? She isn't one to mess around with.”  
“I know, Sirius. I planned to call on Hekate and Nantosuelta.”  
“Interesting combination, Lily. You are aware that they are from two different traditions?”  
“Of course.” Lily grinned impishly, “Hekate is the Greek goddess of magic, the night, and the moon; Nantosuelta is the Gallic goddess of nature, fertility, and fire; both James and you were dedicated to Hekate; and I was presented to Nantosuelta by my mother. She also had me christened, of course.”  
“You'd better double-check the ritual with Remus,” warned Sirius.  
“Oh, I will. I want him to be a godfather too.”  
Sirius stared at Lily in disbelief, “When?”  
“October 23. It's the full moon.”  
“Are you insane?” barked Sirius. “You want a werewolf in wolf form to be around your baby?”  
“Settle down, Padfoot,” said Remus, “I heard your voice from the front door.” He looked at Lily, “What's going on? I know from the volume that it's your fault.”  
“I want you to be one of Harrison's godfathers. We're having the ceremony on October 23 and presenting Harrison to Hekate and Nantosuelta and asking her for protection.”  
Remus hummed, “October 23, full moon, werewolf form, Hekate, Greco-Roman, moon, magic, Nantosuelta, nature, fire. What ritual did you have in mind?”  
“Dedication to Hekate, the one in the female Potter grimoire. I'd like my mother to come as well, after all she was the one who dedicated me to Nantosuelta.”  
“Athame, moonstone, keys, flame, torches, two no three. By the forest. Lord and Lady Potter and Lord Black are coming I presume. Godmother is...?” Remus trailed off.  
“Alice Longbottom,” said James firmly, “But not that night.”  
“Okay,” drawled Remus, pulling out a notebook and pen from one of his pockets. “Invitations? Animagus forms? Lord Potter performs the ceremony?”  
“None,” said Lily. “Of course. Only for Nantosuelta, Lord Black performs the summoning of Hekate. Any other questions, Remus?”  
Scribbling furiously, Remus shrugged, “Many, but they can wait until we are in the library and have the answers available.” Remus put away his pen and notebook, and picked up the bag from Pickering & Chatto.  
“I'm looking forward to having the Marauders together again,” said James, “I've missed seeing Wormtail since he went into Transportation Department. We don't even have time to have lunch.”  
“Should we prank him to welcome him home?” asked Sirius.  
“Fool,” admonished Remus fondly, as he and Lily headed toward the library.  
“Of course, how else can I stay so young and handsome?”  
~O~  
Monday, June 17, 1991  
Sirius was yanked forcefully from the happy memories by the wave of fear and sadness that indicated the passage of a Dementor in the hallway. A few minutes later the rattling of the gruel dispenser indicated that it was time to eat, but Sirius stared at the wall and counted the marks. Five years was the sentence for murder, and he was responsible for two. He should have warned Prongs and Lily more strongly about summoning Hekate as witness. He had been training for taking over the Black family since he was seven, surely he should have been able to stop their deaths. Just a few more months, then he would either escape or die, but he would be out of here. And if he escaped he would see his puppy again.  
Sirius dug his spoon into the gruel and swallowed the unappetizing mass. He scarcely noticed the texture and taste that resembled nothing so much as cereal that had been drowned in milk and then left under the bed for at least a week. His first few months were marked by dreams of the meals he remembered with his grandfather or with the Potters, but he never had dreams of food anymore, just dreams of the Marauders and Lily and occasionally about his puppy, Harrison. He had to keep as much strength as he could, his puppy deserved to have a healthy and sane godfather, but would have to do with a penitent one. He was a horrible godfather, but at least his puppy was being watched over by Remus.


	3. Tuesday, July 18, 1991

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences  
by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Nine: Dreams of Death and Death of Dreams  
Tuesday, June 18, 1991  
Harrison woke up a half hour before Petunia would pound on his door to inform him that he had better get breakfast on the table. He put on his school uniform, Petunia had managed to get into the donation box at school at the beginning of the year and take three uniforms from the nursery year size range and gave them to Harrison. Over the uniform, Harry put on the third smallest of Dudley's cast-off shirts. Although it had short sleeves when it had been on Dudley, on Harrison the shoulders hung almost to his elbows and the ends of the sleeves almost touched his wrists. In one of Petunia's more amenable moods, she had allowed Harrison to borrow a needle and sew a piece of string inside the shirt at the shoulder seam and another at the neckline. With these, Harrison was able to at least shorten the shoulders enough so that he could use the kitchen equipment without injury. Harrison winced as he remembered the pains of the burns that had finally convinced his aunt to allow him to modify the clothes.  
~O~  
Wednesday, July 18,1984  
“Get up,” Petunia said as she unlocked the bolt on the cupboard. “Don't sleep the day away. It's time to fix breakfast.”  
Harrison felt sluggish and took more time than usual to get ready that morning. His sleep had been disturbed by dreams. A man with black hair whose face disappeared in a flash of green light. A woman with hair that looked like embers but didn't burn who smiled and then screamed into another flash of green. His cheeks were wet with the tears that had fallen in his sleep, and he had trouble finding his glasses this morning.  
He was not out of the cupboard by the time that Petunia had retrieved the milk and eggs form the front porch and she gave a blow to the door as she passed. “Get up, boy! It's already six-thirty!”  
“Yes, ma'am, I'm coming,” replied Harrison as he finally found his glasses and perched them on his nose.  
“You'd better be preparing breakfast in two minutes or I'll have Vernon give you a stripe to speed you up,” warned Petunia.  
Harrison shrugged on one of his work shirts and left the cupboard just in time to hear the bathroom door close as Vernon began his morning routine. Swiftly he entered the kitchen and started to prepare the sausage that Petunia had set out for the family's breakfast. One of the chairs from the table provided a ladder so that he was able to reach the top of the stove more readily, but his strength was not adequate to lift the heavy cast-iron skillet that Petunia preferred for breakfast use.  
After placing the sausage links in the pan and starting the fire, Harrison reached for the spatula, only to jerk back in dismay as his sleeve dipped first in the hot grease in the skillet then into the flame and caught fire. He tried to put out the fire with his other hand, but the position was such that he couldn't reach it. He tried to get his sleeve free from the burner, but it had been caught on the prongs of the grate. “Aunt Petunia!” he yelled, “I need some help!”  
“Don't wake Duddykins, he needs his sleep. I'll come in a minute.”  
A minute later, when she arrived, the sausages were aflame and Harrison's right sleeve was on fire to his shoulder, he was still attempting to escape from the grate and finally was able to free himself from the stove. His efforts were punished immediately as his attempts to dislodge his sleeve from the grate resulted in the grate coming loose from the stove and drenching him with burning oil as well as the sleeve.  
Petunia threw the wool rug on the floor over him and smothered the flame, but the damage had been done. Harrison's entire left side was covered in blisters from his shoulder to his knees. His right hand was also blistered from where he had attempted to put out the flames. “You idiot boy!” Petunia yelled, “Do you know how much those sausages cost? You are to get into your cupboard and don't come out until I tell you.”  
Harrison fled to the cupboard, his burns undressed.  
~O~  
Thursday, July 19, 1984  
Harrison lay in the cupboard, unable to move. The water in the bottles near his pillow teased him with the thought of quenching his thirst, but his left side was to painful to allow it to touch anything but air, and his right arm was trapped. Besides, his right hand was burned almost as bad as his left side. He would just have to wait until his left side healed enough for him to move before he could get any water, but he could almost taste the coolness of the water flowing down his throat, it would feel so good. Harrison's thoughts concentrated on the taste, the feel, the smell, the sensation of water caressing his dry mouth and throat. He could imagine the water so clearly that it was almost as though there were water in his mouth, and he finally fell asleep, dreaming of water. As he slept, a small trickle of water came from his mouth and wet the pillow, despite his continuous unconscious swallowing.  
~O~  
Friday, July 20, 1984  
Harrison felt fairly normal until he tried to move his left arm; the agony of the burned skin pulling as the muscles flexed was enough for him to immediately stop. He shifted just enough to release his right arm from beneath himself and reached for one of his bottles of water. The top removed, he drank thirstily, but idly wondered why it did not taste as good as he thought it should. After a cup of water, he stopped. He was still thirsty of course, but he knew that too much at once would cause more problems. After closing his eyes and picturing the book that he had been able to glance through in the library the last week of school, Harrison turned the first page of his remembered book and began to read.  
At the end of the book, he took another drink and slipped into a doze. The pain from the burns was a reminder of what happened when he dreamed at night rather than slept soundly. He asked, quite solemnly, never to dream again. Or at least, for his dreams not to be remembered on waking to cause such pain again.

 

Chapter Ten: Marian, Madam Librarian  
Tuesday, June 18, 1991  
Harrison still remembered the pain of the two weeks being stuck in the cupboard and waiting for his burns to heal. It might have been the burns themselves that had convinced Petunia to allow it, but Harrison had a feeling that it had more to do with her being required to work for those two weeks instead of having Harrison available to prepare meals, do the laundry and dishes, and all of the garden work. Her precious roses almost died in those two weeks, and that they had been dying was all Harrison's fault, just like everything else that went wrong. It was not until Harrison took over the care of the garden again that they started to grow again, and they didn't bloom again until September.  
Harrison waited for the cupboard door to be unlocked. His morning routine was now just that. Wake up before Petunia called, be dressed before she unlocked the cupboard, inquire as to what the family wanted for breakfast, prepare breakfast, set the table, clean the cooking utensils while the family ate, and clean up the kitchen after they were done.  
After breakfast, the front garden and Petunia's prize roses always needed care, and supper always had to be made, but other chores depended upon the season. After evening chores were completed, Harrison accepted his stripes for tasks undone and retired to his cupboard to be locked in for the night.  
This morning Petunia was almost gentle as she unlocked the door and told him, “Get up.”  
Harrison immediately left the cupboard and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. After the meal preparation was completed, he was given permission to start out to school early. He left as soon as he had finished washing the utensils he had used. As he passed his cupboard he stripped off the oversized shirt and hung it on the inside doorknob. Ten seconds later and he was gone out the front door. A brisk five minute walk brought him to the thin line of trees that marked the boundary of the secondary school. He stripped a few berry vines as he walked and ate them for breakfast. They would have to hold him until lunch.  
Harrison liked school days. After the kitchen was clean he was allowed to leave to walk to school, about a mile away. Dudley, of course, rode with Vernon, and was dropped off at the school gates. If Harrison was quick enough, he would be able to sneak into the school library and read a book before the bell rang for the first class of the day. Despite his best efforts, Harrison had been unable to convince his teachers that he was eager to learn. Petunia's lies were too convincing, and the other children were too terrified of Dudley to report his actions. So the teachers accused Harrison of laziness for failing to produce his homework or of copying Dudley's if he succeeded in bringing it to class. Harrison had tried to convince the teachers that he was a good student, but all they saw was a lack of homework.  
Harrison reached the school almost an hour early and immediately walked around the building to the employee area to see if the school librarian, Miss Marian as he called her, had arrived. Her car was there, so he tapped on the window of the library and waited by the door. A minute later, Miss Marian came to the door and let him in. Miss Marian was wonderful! She brought him new books to read and was willing to answer questions. Harrison knew that the “No questions!” was suspended when he was alone with Miss Marian and he had taken full advantage of her unusual perspective. He had first been in the library during his nursery year, the second most important day of his life to that point. The first, of course, was the day he got glasses and was able to see the world, despite the blustering and punishment bestowed by Vernon.  
Miss Marian hadn't seen him look at the dictionary for all of the words that he was having trouble understanding, but she seemed nice enough, he was disposed to like her because she looked so unlike Petunia and Vernon. Miss Marian had hair that was neither red nor yellow, but a combination that looked warm and comforting. She was shorter than either of the Dursleys, and seemed a compromise between Petunia's skeletal thinness and Vernon's porcine obesity. Miss Marian, in Harrison's opinion, was beautiful and reminded him of the warm-faced woman in his dreams.  
~O~  
While Harrison worked his way through the stack of books she had borrowed from the university library, Miss Marian pondered the behavior of this unusual boy and his teachers. She had been working as the school librarian for two years when she first met Harrison. She had not been terribly impressed by the behavior of the teachers she had met, the weekly meetings in the staff room seemed more like vicious gossip sessions than discussions of ways to deal with problem children.  
~O~  
Friday, October 26, 1983  
The weekly staff meeting at St. Grogory's Primary School was in full swing. A week of no children because of the Half Term holiday, and the stress of the mid-term exams and evaluations caused the discussion to be more vicious than usual.  
“I had such hopes for the boy,” moaned Mrs. Smith, the Nursery teacher. “He seemed such a bright boy at the beginning of the term, and the work for his first few weeks was excellent. Then he was gone for two days, sick his aunt said, and when he came back he was the most stupid child I had ever seen. His cousin, on the other hand, started out slow and has improved steadily through the term. Harrison Potter is a troublemaker, make no mistake about that. All you have to do is look at the reactions of the other children. The know a troublemaker when they see one.”  
“Anything I can do to help?” asked the headmistress.  
“I don't know, at first I thought that the aunt and uncle might be neglecting the child. The child needed glasses and had never gotten them. I sent three notes on the matter home with the boy; but, judging by his behavior later in the term, I'd be willing to bet that he didn't deliver the first two. He acted like his aunt and uncle didn't want to spend the money, but I'm sure there was another reason. He came back with them the next day after that third note, so I suppose it was the first note that was delivered. If so, the only reason he delivered it was because I told him that it contained a copy of one I was going to send to my brother-in-law in the police force.”  
“Oh dear,” said the headmistress faintly. “Who are the parents?”  
“He's an orphan. Vernon and Petunia Dursley are his guardians. Their son Dudley is also in my class. He's a slow learner, but he plods away until he understands the material. Harrison, I hate to say it, might be a bully.”  
“Why don't you go for a home visit over the holiday?” recommended the headmistress.  
“I would, but I am taking my family to see my mother in London. The children have been anticipating going to the museum since we decided to go back in late August. Perhaps I'll go after term resumes.”  
The discussion rambled on, and Marian largely ignored it.  
~O~  
Wednesday, November 14, 1983  
The first trip to the library for the Nursery year was always a fiasco with children throwing books they could not read and fighting over preferred picture books. Harrison caught Marian's interest because he was not acting in the normal fashion. He stood before pedestal on which the first volume of the Oxford English Dictionary rested and gently closed the book, opened the cover, then turned each page carefully, only spending about a half-second on each page. When Harrison reached the end of the book, he shuddered and glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Not noticing Marian's attention, he carefully removed the dictionary from the stand, replaced it in the shelf, and extracted the second volume.  
Marian was distracted by a commotion in the picture books, a rotund boy was shrieking that he had seen the book first. The boy was not soothed until the Nursery teacher said that he could have the book first. The child sneered at the other children behind their teacher's back, and Marian wondered at his behavior. The Nursery teacher called, “Harrison Potter, get over here immediately!” Marian noticed that the boy at the dictionary placed another volume on the pedestal at the call, opened it, and turned away with a sigh. Five minutes of feverishly recording which child had which book and the Nursery class was gone. The boy, evidently Harrison Potter, did not check out a single book, despite his interest in the dictionary. Wondering why, Marian walked over to the dictionary. She realized that the book was open to the exact page which had been displayed before. Dismissing it as a coincidence, she turned to the picture book area to clean up the chaos left by the Nursery class.  
~O~  
Tuesday, January 8, 1984  
Harrison came into the library on his own during play time and asked for information about dogs. Wondering if he might be getting a pet soon, Marian pointed him to the encyclopedia set for children. Returning to her task of shelving books, she was startled when he gingerly approached her and asked if there was anything more. She pointed out the more advanced encyclopedia set. As the play period ended, she asked if he had found what he sought. He told her no. She realized that play time was almost over and asked if he would like to check out a book on dog breeds to take home. He looked terrified, said hurriedly, “No, thank you for your consideration,” and fled.  
~O~  
Friday, January 18, 1984  
The Friday staff meeting was in full swing and the staff had already dissected the character and behavior of the children in Year 6 and 5 when Marian entered the staff room. She was not required to come, but she was becoming intrigued by Harrison Potter. The discussion continued around her with the analysis of the Year 4 and 3 children. Year 2 and the Reception Year were soon chewed over, and Marian could see the eager look as the teachers prepared to chew over the latest events in the Nursery Year. It wasn't because the teachers didn't care; Marian was sure that it had more to do with attempting to control twenty four-year-old children. It had been many years since Marian had been in Nursery Year, but she recalled that her class had only ten students, and her teacher had still had problems controlling them at times.  
The Year 1 teacher started the discussion, “How was he after the Christmas break?”  
“Well,” said Mrs. Smith, “you know how I talked about the problems his cousin has been having?”  
“Yes,” urged another teacher.  
“Well,” said Mrs. Smith archly, “I made a home visit over the holidays.”  
“And?” came several voices.  
“And Harrison had fifteen presents under the tree as compared to Dudley's ten.”  
Several teachers gasped, “Really?”  
“Mrs. Dursley told me that they were trying to make it up to the boy for not having any parents, but it doesn't seem to be working. Not only did he have more presents than his cousin, his aunt told me that the reason he is such a problem is because of bad blood.”  
“Bad blood? Surely you can't mean?”  
“Well, his parents were married, but it seems that his father never had a job. His mother must have supported the family. And you've seen that scar on his forehead? It was caused in the car crash that killed his parents. No one else suffered for their stupidity and drunk driving.”  
“Poor Dursleys, how they must suffer.”  
“Even worse,” whispered Mrs. Smith. “It seems the boy's godfather is in prison. For murder.”  
Shrieks of vicarious terror filled the staff room, until Marian asked, “How are his parents supporting the child?”  
“I didn't ask. They are probably supporting him out of the goodness of their hearts. Pure Christian charity. Such a lovely couple, the Dursleys. Salt of the earth.”  
“They should take a belt to that boy. Spare the rod and spoil the child; that's what I always heard. And for a case like this it is probably the only way.”  
Marian wondered if these teachers were speaking of the same child she had met. The Harrison she had seen was shy but polite. Well, perhaps she would have a chance to observe him more later.

 

Tuesday, June 18, 1991  
“Miss Marian?”  
“Yes, Harrison? Are you done with the books?”  
“Yes, ma'am, but I don't understand it all. Is there additional information about the matter? I don't understand how the Children Act 1989 would affect a custody case of a child currently living with relatives.”  
Marian looked at the small child and wondered. Here was a child with a brilliant mind who had trained his memory to record reading material at a glance and retrieve it for later consumption, yet his teachers insisted that he was an idiot and a bully. She almost snorted, A bully? The child was a whole three inches over three feet tall, which put him far below the normal height for his age, she was certain that he was frequently mistaken for a five-year-old. His reluctance to speak to adults had been fostered carefully over the years, and she wondered if all of his teachers were blind. This was no troublemaker or bully; this was a child who asked only for the smallest of kind gestures to smile. She had watched him go from caution to diffidence to withdrawal. She wondered if she was the only adult that he was willing to open up to. She had only seen him four times during his Nursery year, but was always careful not to startle him. If not for that small foundation of trust, her best efforts in his Reception year would have been useless. As it was, they had almost been insufficient.  
~O~  
Tuesday, September 3, 1984  
The Reception Year was gathered at the front door of the school to be taken to their various classes. The eighty children were divided up into five classes and herded away by their new teachers. Harrison Potter looked up at his new teacher hopefully, maybe she would be nice. He still had twinges occasionally from the burns he had acquired over the summer and his right wrist was still sore from Vernon twisting it just this morning as a reminder that he must not attempt to take attention away from their precious Dudley.  
Harrison's hopes were dashed the instant his teacher called attendance. He and Dudley had not only been placed in the same class, but Dudley was seated next to him, “So he can keep an eye on you, we try to put a responsible child with a troublemaker.”  
Harrison was caught between disbelieving laughter and outright horror. Dudley would indeed keep an eye on him, or a fist or elbow or foot or knee. Dudley had grown two inches over the summer holidays and now stood a full eleven inches taller than Harrison. Harrison remained at the same height he had attained at the age of three, two feet and ten inches of wiry muscle. Dudley had also increased in girth of course, and now weighed a whopping eighty pounds as opposed Harrison's wiry forty pounds.  
~O~  
Friday, September 6, 1984  
The Reception year teacher heaved a sigh of relief as she entered the staff room. “Mrs. Smith, how did you manage to deal with that boy?”  
“Harrison?”  
“Yes. He is unwilling to do any of the work set for him. On Tuesday, I asked him to practice his penmanship, but he just looked at me. At the end of the day, he had still not even picked up the pencil. I'm at my wit's end. The next day, he at least picked up the pencil, but I haven't seen such horrible writing in ages. Look at it!” she brandished an exercise sheet. “It's like he's never written before in his life!”  
Mrs. Smith nodded her head in sympathy, “It happened several times last year too. Suddenly he would stop doing his school work for about a week, then he would turn in papers that looked almost like that one, although never quite so bad.”  
“What did you do?”  
“I couldn't very well suspend him because Dudley would cry so pitifully if Harrison was out of his sight for more than a few minutes. Even changing seats didn't help because of Dudley. I would say that your best option is to gradually wean Dudley away from him.”  
Marian left the staff room quietly and wondered about the motives of Harrison Potter and Dudley Dursley.  
~O~  
Friday, October 25, 1984  
The staff room was full of teachers discussing their students at the end of the half term. This year every teacher in infant school had felt the impact of the problem child in the Reception year. The number of bruises that appeared on the children in Nursery and Reception years had tripled. Harrison Potter had been ostracized by his classmates, but the behavior still continued. He was the cause of three-fourths of the “accidents” on the playground, and his cousin, Dudley, was his favorite target. Dudley was found crying at least twice per week, but he refused to be separated from his cousin. The teachers had attempted to separate them, but Dudley had refused to stop wailing until Harrison was returned to the seat next to his. Harrison was also a suspect in the rash of petty thievery that had struck the infant school, but no direct accusations could be made. The other children seemed terrified of Harrison and never went near him.  
“Call a bully, a bully,” said Mrs. Smith, Harrison's Nursery teacher. “He's gotten worse from last year.”  
“And it's affecting Dudley. The poor boy is terrified of being separated from his cousin, but he isn't learning a thing while being next to him.”  
“Is Harrison's behavior in class better when he is next to Dudley?”  
“He doesn't seem to be causing that many problems in class except for occasional tipping over his chair. The other children give the excuse that he fell, but I can tell that he is just trying to get attention.”  
“Well,” said the headmistress, “can we expel him?”  
“If you do, you had better be ready to expel Dudley as well. If he is unable to see Harrison, he becomes terrified and cries miserably.”  
“Is there anything we can do?”  
“I'm trying to wean Dudley away from the boy by separating them during play time, but the longest Dudley is willing to be away from his cousin is about twenty minutes. That took most of the past two months, but, hopefully by the Christmas holiday I'll be able to separate them for the entire play period.”  
Marian quietly sat and sipped her tea as the gossip continued. Because of her position she saw behavior from a different perspective. The students who came early were her morning entertainment, and she had noticed that Harrison arrived far earlier than his cousin. He would walk furtively into the play area of the school, checking to see that no other students were around. Then he would extract a book from a small stash and sit on the ledge of the climbing tower and read. Sometimes he would pull a notebook from his pack and write something in it. If other children arrived before Dudley, they were scrupulously ignored, and in turn the other children ignored Harrison. However, the moment that Dudley arrived, the behavior pattern changed. All of the children except Harrison immediately went to the opposite side of the play area and Dudley was left with his cousin. This was the scene that most of the teachers saw as they arrived. Dudley attached to Harrison as though by a tether, and the other children avoiding both of them.  
~O~  
Monday, November 4, 1984  
Marian decided to put her plan into effect this morning. It might already be too late to rescue Harrison Potter, but she was going to try. She had arrived at the school a little before six this morning, determined to get to Harrison's stash of books, insert her contribution, and be in the building before he arrived.  
Her contribution was a book on dogs that she had seen in a rummage sale. It had pictures of many different breeds, but had only cost a few pence. Marian had written on the front fly leaf, “If you would like more books, come tap on the library window. It is the second to the left from the main door,” and signed it, “the Librarian.”  
Then she proceeded with her morning routine of entering the school, preparing a pot of tea that would stay on the small hotplate in the staffroom. Her morning cup of tea in hand, Marian headed to the library. The lights turned on so that she could see in her work area, she proceeded to attempt a repair on one of the more popular picture books that one of the Nursery students had torn. After a few minutes she looked up see Harrison staring in the window at her. She smiled at him and returned to her work.  
~O~  
Tuesday, November 5, 1984  
Marian continued her attack by placing another book on dogs in Harrison's stash of books with the same inscription, but had added a small package that contained a few biscuits. She had laughed to herself that she was attempting to tame a wild animal with bribes of food and books, but what wild animal would read?  
Her morning tea in hand, Marian again entered the library, but this time Harrison was staring in the window at her before she had a chance to get to her work area. She smiled at him, nodded politely to acknowledge his presence and turned to the task of checking to see which students would need to have notes sent home to remind them to return library books.  
When she glanced up again, Harrison was gone.  
~O~  
Friday, November 8, 1984  
Marian's taming process was progressing nicely. She had decided to take her attack more seriously on Tuesday evening. she had rearranged the books in the window so that there was an illustrated book of mythology prominently displayed. When she came in Wednesday morning, she left a small packet of cheese and an apple with Harrison's books, got her tea, and waited until Harrison had made his morning appearance at the window. After he had disappeared, she opened the front cover of the book and returned to her daily tasks. That evening she turned the page in the mythology book.  
Thursday morning she repeated the process, waiting until Harrison had come to the window to turn the page. He appeared at the window again that morning, and after he had left, she turned the page. This process was repeated three times that morning before the arrival of Dudley and the other teachers.  
This morning, she had left a note with the morning snack. “You can read the book faster if you come to the library, The Librarian.” Then proceeded with her morning routine. After the second page turn of the morning, she was greeted by a gentle tap at the window as she went to turn the page again. She smiled at Harrison, pointed in the direction of the main door, and hurried out of the library to let in her newly tamed reader.

 

Chapter Twelve: Reader as Oliver Twist  
Tuesday, June 18, 1991  
Marian sat with Harrison discussing some of the books he had read over the last week. Although Harrison was only ten, almost eleven, and Marian was only a primary school librarian; they had discussed such wide-ranging topics as current events in politics, comparative mythology, Latin and Greek languages and the idiosyncrasies of each, and the current philosophical basis of modern physics. It would be startling perhaps that a primary school librarian would have such material available, but Marian worked in the school library because of the many hours available for self-study. She truly was not interested in all of the subjects that she and Harrison discussed, the routine of changing topics had started in his Reception year and never ceased. Marian still remembered Harrison's first requested topic of research, and had nightmares about the second and third.  
~O~  
Monday, November 12, 1984  
“Harrison, are you interested in anything in particular?” asked Marian early Monday morning.  
“Dogs,” he murmured, head down but glancing upward warily.  
“Have you already looked at all of the books on dogs I left?”  
“Yes, ma'am. They weren't there.” Greatly daring, Harrison looked at Marian and added, “I'm looking for two particular dogs. I've seen them in my dreams. I looked through all of the books on dogs in the library last year.”  
“Can you describe them?”  
“One is black and very shaggy, I think that he's very big, but I'm not certain. The other is a cross between brown and gray, not as shaggy as the other but also big. I've also read the books on dreams, but couldn't find them there either.”  
“Well, I have a book of dog breeds at home that I can bring in tomorrow. What would you like to read today?”  
Harrison's gaze lifted cautiously to hers, “Something I haven't already read.”  
“Why don't you start in the picture books? It was quite crowded with your entire class here last year. Of course, you can read anything you like, ask me if you have any questions or need anything.”  
“Yes, ma'am.” Harrison started toward the picture books.  
Marian had noticed that Harrison never came within an arm's length of her. She watched as he walked away, his shoulders stiff as though expecting a blow. She was more certain than ever that this was a child who was the bullied rather than the bully. Marian thought of Harrison as a wild creature that had been tamed but was sure he did not trust her enough to ask questions. She returned to her work for the morning, writing letters to the various parents of children who had still not returned borrowed books.  
After the first twenty letters had been written, Marian looked up and watched Harrison for a few moments. She was startled when, within a minute of her gaze resting on him, he met her gaze inquisitively. She smiled reassuringly, and he immediately dropped his gaze. However, she noticed that for the next few minutes that, whenever she glanced at him, he would meet her gaze for a split second before dropping his gaze again.  
Marian's alarm went off at five minutes before seven, startling Marian even though she had known it was coming. She had set the alarm to remind herself to let Harrison back out into the schoolyard before any of the other students or teachers arrived. Harrison's presence in the library was to be their secret, that was the tacit agreement they had made last Friday. She was about to ask if he was ready to leave when Harrison appeared in front of her desk holding two books.  
His demeanor screamed “don't hurt me!” as he asked, “Does the library have additional information on these?”  
Marian looked at the two books, a simplified book of fairy tales and a collection of myths from several cultures. “Which did you want to study first?”  
“First?”  
“Generally I can bring in about six books each day. Which of those would you most like to examine further?” Seeing his look of dismay, she added, “We can cover the first one next week, and the other the following week. That way you get to find out about both. Agreed?”  
Harrison nodded, “Either.” His eyes sparkled with the thought of exploring both, and he slipped out of the door almost before Marian realized he was gone.”  
~O~  
Tuesday, November 13, 1984  
Marian brought in her most complete book on dog breeds that contained pictures. She had gone to the Little Whinging library for a listing of dog breeds recognized by the The Kennel Club (she had never realized there were so many breeds) and an instruction manual for translating the descriptions of those breeds into more normal terms (what the heck did brindle and merle have to do with color anyway). A book of fairy tales from her childhood and a book of Greek myths completed her collection for Harrison this morning. She also had a book on Welsh legends that she had been rereading.  
Harrison arrived at half past six and tapped on the window of the library. Letting him in the front door, Marian reminded him that he could ask questions if he encountered anything he did not understand or even if he just wanted more information. Presenting him with the books on dogs she had brought, she watched his eyes light with excitement. Five minutes later she met his disappointed gaze that silently asked “More?” as he said, “They aren't here.”  
“Are there any breeds that are close?”  
“The Pyrenean Mountain Dog looks a lot like the black dog, but its fur is not shaggy enough, besides my dog has black fur. The closest the book has to the other dog is a Alaskan Malamute, but I think it is larger and not as starkly different between back and belly. It is more gray and I think larger.”  
“Okay, can you draw a picture of your dogs?”  
Harrison looked at Marian in disbelief. “I can't. Everything turns out wrong. Besides...” he trailed off.  
“Besides,” Marian encouraged.  
“Dudley steals any art supplies that I get, he likes to spread glue on all of the chairs in the classroom. I get blamed for it, of course, since it is my glue after all. Last week he used my markers to draw on the walls in the boys' lavatory. I spent an hour after school cleaning it off the walls. Fortunately they let me use rubbing alcohol, it makes the removal much faster.”  
Marian wasn't sure what to make of a four-year-old who knew how to remove marker from walls, but offered, “I could keep art supplies for you here in the library. You could use them in the mornings.”  
“Thank you, ma'am, but I would rather read. If you could get responsibility for supervising me during playtime, I could practice art then.”  
“Call me Marian, Harrison.”  
“Yes, ma'am, Miss Marian,” as the alarm sounded. He scurried off before she could correct him.  
~O~  
Wednesday, November 14, 1984  
Marian brought another picture book this morning; it had photographs of wolves as well as other members of the canine family. Her collection of fairy tales was augmented by a trip to the Little Whinging library.  
Harrison showed up at his usual time. When Harrison had read the books she had brought, he looked up at her beseechingly and asked, “Are there any more?”  
~O~  
Friday, November 23, 1984  
Harrison had devoured every book of children's fairy tales and folk tales that Marian had been able to obtain in the last week, but she was faced with a problem. On Thursday she had brought out the more adult versions. Adult versions of the fairy tales, books of folk tales, and fables were devoured. “More, please?” was the unspoken request at the end of each session.   
On her mettle as a librarian, Marian went further afield. She needed more resources than Little Whinging provided. She had already contacted the librarian at the Secondary school, the city librarian, and the library in Guildford, the county town. She had written some of her friends looking for a broader range of reading material, but was still waiting for replies. Hopefully one of the other Orangutans could give her some help.

 

Chapter Thirteen: Bookworm on a Diet  
Tuesday, June 18, 1991  
Marian's musing was interrupted by the sound of Harrison closing the last of his books and tucking his notebooks away in the space behind her desk that had been designated as his. Within seconds of the last of the clearing away of the evidence of their morning session, her alarm sounded and he was away.  
Marian looked out the window to see the other children begin to arrive as Harrison slipped out of the main doors. As usual he perched near the top of the climbing tower, and was avoided scrupulously by the other children. Marian noticed that he sat in what she called his “reading pose.” Every morning after their reading session he sat and collated the information he had received. She had asked him how he organized the information but couldn't understand his reply of notebooks, especially as she had never seen him carry a notebook.  
~O~  
Friday, December 28, 1984  
“The Society of Orangutans is now called to order,” said George, raising his voice to be heard over the babble of friends seeing each other for the first time in a year. “We celebrate the end of another year and the coming of a new. Is there any other business to put on the table besides Marian's issue?”  
“I'm getting married in a week,” said an attractive young woman.  
“Congratulations,” said George, “any other business?” After a few moments of silence, he continued, “Take the floor, Marian.”  
Marian sat more erect in her chair, her strawberry blonde hair floating free. “I have a reader,” the emphasis was heavy, “who reads everything I can get my hands on. Some of you have been kind enough to contribute materials, but I need additional assistance. This is no ordinary reader, he went through my entire collection of fairy and folk tales in less than a week.”  
Gasps came from several people who knew just how extensive her collection was. “Adult ones too?” asked one of the group.  
“Absolutely, I couldn't deny his pleading looks. I'm not exactly sure how much of the subtext he caught, but I know that he had no trouble with the vocabulary at least.”  
“Does he retain the information at that speed?”  
“He seems to do so. I asked him about one of the folk tales and he provided me with the tale and as many variants as I had in my collection. That's fifteen different variants, people. You remember my dissertation of the Snow White story? That was the tale.”  
“What do you mean he provided you with the tale?”  
“Not word for word out of the book, but condensed. I asked for clarification on one point, he closed his eyes briefly and recited the passage verbatim. He remembered the source for each variant as well.”  
“Does he have any other areas of interest?”  
“I asked what he was interested in when I started. He said dogs, folk tales, and fairy tales. After I gave him all I could on those, he asked about mythology. I gave him everything available. This reader has gone through the entire collection in the school, including the Oxford English Dictionary that I keep more for appearances than usage by the students. Oh yes, he read that last year. It's probably why he has so few issues with vocabulary.”  
The group erupted with shouts of disbelief, drowning out each others comments.  
Marian raised the folder, “Here is the list of books that I know he has read. He has probably read more than this, but this is what I have watched him read.”  
George took the folder and opened it. His eyes widened as he read the first page, he passed that page to his right, then the next to his left. “Are these in order?” he asked.  
“More or less; the first book I saw him read was the dictionary, but I really had no idea at the time that he was reading it. I thought he was looking through it for pictures.”  
One of the Orangutans from the opposite end of the table raised a question. “Who is this reader of yours?”  
Marian shrugged, “I'll call him Harrison; it's suitable for a junior member of the Society. You know that I teach at St. Grogory's Primary School? It's county supported.” Nods of acknowledgment from several members greeted her question. “I saw him reading books far more advanced than his age would suggest, yet his teachers insist that he is stupid and lazy.”  
“And you say?”  
“They are confusing this boy with another. They look nothing alike, but the perception was set last year. Now they don't want to see any aberrations from their perceptions. The only reason I caught this reader was because saw what he was reading last year. This year I lured him into the library. I bribed him with books.”  
Laughter erupted at the admission.  
“I need help,” Marian continued. “The child needs to be challenged and my specialization is too narrow for him. He has already branched out into religious texts.”  
“Excuse me, religious texts?” asked George.  
“Well, there is a copy of the Bible in the school library, he went through that in two hours. I found an old copy of the Koran, and someone donated a copy of some of the Vedas to the Guildford Library. I'm looking into getting some of the other religious texts, but I really need help.”  
The Orangutans erupted, but George brought them back to order. “How old is your reader?” he asked.  
“He's four. Could some of you either come to the school on some afternoon or exchange correspondence with him?”  
Calls of acceptance came from several directions. George called for order again, “I need a show of hands, who is able to visit the school?” About three hands raised. “Correspondents?” Another ten raised their hands. George turned to Marian, “Is this enough?”  
Marian stood, “Thank you all. I would ask those who visit to be cautious. The school is unaware of the reader and would not approve of any action that reassures him. I will be the go-between for correspondence. Please let me know your areas of specialization and books that I will need to provide for Harrison.”  
The Society of Orangutans, finished with the business of the meeting, started the party. Food was ordered and the issue of Marian's reader was set aside for the moment in deference to the pleasures of good food and good company.  
~O~  
Tuesday, June 18, 1991  
Marian watched through the window as the children made their usual disorderly way through the main doors and down the hallways to their various classrooms. This was Harrison's final year at St. Grogory's Primary School, next year he would be advancing to Stonewall Secondary School. Marian had only one more year at St. Grogory's before she, too, would be moving to another position. It was not that she did not enjoy working with the children; that she enjoyed greatly, but the favoritism displayed by the headmistress had become too much. Marian's initial attempt to inform the headmistress of Harrison's potential had met with failure.  
~O~  
Friday, November 30, 1984  
Marian came to the staff room early. She had an appointment with the headmistress to discuss Harrison. Marian had prepared a list of the topics that she and Harrison had covered and the list of books that he had already read. She looked up as the headmistress entered the staff room.  
“Headmistress,” she said politely, “I have a student that needs special attention in the library.”  
“Which student?”  
“Harrison Potter, ma'am.”  
“He can't read? He destroys books? I wouldn't expect any better of that brat. Petunia is a saint to put up with his behavior. I've never encountered such ill-bred behavior in my life as that child displays.”  
“He has been extremely polite to me,” replied Marian. “I was wondering if I could request time in the early afternoon once per week to go to the university and obtain books for him.”  
“Want to escape the brat, do you? If you want to escape him after an hour with him once every two weeks, just imagine how his teacher feels.”  
“No, I like the boy; I just am having trouble keeping up with his reading habits,” responded Marian.  
“If you can't handle him once every two weeks, that's your problem. I don't see why you should be rewarded for not having to deal with him. I'm thinking of having a rotating schedule of teachers to supervise the devil child so that his poor cousin has time away from him.”  
“I could supervise Harrison in the afternoons, but I will need to take a mid-day break to go to the university. It would be during the times I do not have a class scheduled to be in the library.”  
“Do you really think you could handle the child?” asked the headmistress incredulously. “Well, on your head be it. You have responsibility for the child for an hour after school every day from now until the end of the term. If you still want to continue after that, you may.”  
“Did you want to see my plans for him?”  
“As long as you don't leave visible marks, I don't care what you do. Just keep that child away from the other teachers.”  
“Yes, headmistress,” said Marian, dumbstruck that the headmistress had not actually listened to her. It was as if the headmistress was hearing something other than what she said. I did say that I was getting additional books for the child, didn't I? How did she get from books to plans that would leave visible marks?  
Marian closed the folder containing the list of books that Harrison had already devoured without the headmistress even looking at it.  
~O~  
Tuesday, June 18, 1991  
None of Marian's attempts to talk to the other teachers had fared better. By the end of the second term of Harrison's Induction year, Marian was tasked with watching Harrison during the play period and for an hour after school. Marian had actually seen the note sent home to Petunia and Vernon Dursley halfway through the second term of his Induction year. The note had said:  
“Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley, Your son Dudley is doing well in my class, but I worry about the effects that your nephew seems to be having on him. When Dudley is around Harrison, he seems unable to learn. The headmistress and other teachers agree that Harrison needs additional training to bring his grades up to an acceptable level. Please, allow Harrison to be retained after school for an extra hour each day. Thank you, Mrs Jones.”  
Marian had been caught between outrage and disbelieving laughter. Harrison's teachers were so convinced that he was at fault for all of the things that Dudley did that the evidence of their own eyes was insufficient to persuade them otherwise.


	4. Chapter 4: Wednesday, June 19, 1991

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Authors' Note: Sorry about the short chapter this month. But that was the way that the days ran. A much longer chapter will arrive next month.

Rituals and Consequences  
by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Fourteen: Behind the Tail  
Wednesday, June 19, 1991  
The story about the group who had ignored the sign at the hippopotamus pool was the talk of the zoo staff for the entire week. The keeper in charge of the exhibit started, “It's the first time I ever had anyone get splattered like that! Sure, a couple got a spot on their shoe or walked through a puddle, but there is a shoe washing station next to the enclosure for just that reason. Really, entering the splatter zone is not a joke. That family was coated with hippopotamus dung from head to toe. It was even in their hair. I'm just glad that we were able to rinse their clothes before they left.”  
Chuckles arose from the other staff members. It wasn't the first time that they had experienced such things in the zoo, but this was more severe than they had ever heard of. “Why did they ignore the sign?”  
The hippopotamus keeper grimaced, “We were feeding the hippopotamus and the bigger boy insisted that he get to watch from as close to the fence as he could get. I tried to warn them, but they stayed in the splatter zone. Personally, I would have told them that they had to pay for their own stupidity.”  
“The management paid for a replacement set of clothes, but I nearly broke a rib trying not to laugh,” said the gift shop attendant.  
“What do you mean?” asked the hippopotamus keeper.  
“You saw them,” replied the gift shop attendant, “The boy (obnoxious brat!) took the largest adult size of shorts we had. The child looked like a whale, or perhaps a tapir if you put it on two legs. The woman kept shrieking about her poor Duddykins.”  
“I know the brat deserved to have trouble, but it was not that funny.”  
“The father,” chuckled the gift shop attendant. “He was four hundred pounds if he was an ounce. He was too big for any of the shorts that we had on hand, that left the sarongs. It wouldn't have been so bad if he was confident enough to carry it off, but he was as big a brat as the child. I always thought a sarong would cover almost anyone, but that man took two. The funny part was that the only two sarongs that matched were lime green with tropical flowers. They were the loudest print I've ever seen. We've had them in the shop for over six months, but no one would take them.”  
“The whale was muttering about it all being the boy's fault, and just wait until he got home,” contributed the gate attendant. “I thought at first he was referring to the young whale, but he kept soothing him by saying that it was all the freak's fault and that the boy would pay. They were also threatening to sue as they left, said that the management had better refund the money for the young whale's eleventh birthday party.”  
“Only eleven, can you believe it?” asked the gift shop attendant. “Maybe we should send them a picture of the back end of a hippo as a reminder to behave themselves.”  
“Wouldn't work,” stated the gate attendant. “The young whale was shrieking that he wanted to go home and never come back to the zoo. Even if the ice cream mountain was on the small side.”  
“Small side? The ice cream mountain? Wait, did you say eleven?” asked the waiter from the restaurant who had just come into the room. “And built like a baby whale?”  
“That's an insult to whales, but the description fits. Why do you ask?” said the attendant.  
“I served the family at luncheon. The father ordered two cheeseburgers, two vegetarian burgers, and a child's cheeseburger. I figured that the two whales were reducing, but not so. The man eats his cheeseburger and half his wife's vegetarian burger, and the kid eats his cheeseburger and half the littlest kid's. Not to mention the large ice cream mountain and half of his friends. He even took one of the profiteroles from the littlest one, but complained that it was all air.”  
“Wait,” said the hippopotamus keeper, “three kids? I only saw two. And a more obnoxious pair would be hard to imagine.”  
“Subtract the wife and it matches the group I had in the Reptile house,” contributed William, the reptile keeper. “The young blimp and the other were pounding on the glass of Rashmi, the Sri Lankan python. The youngest was on the floor, I think I saw a broken pair of glasses, but he was polite. I kicked them all out, but it was just the three that I really wanted to get rid of. The littlest boy, the polite one, asked me if the snakes were okay. I sent him an invitation to come see me the next time he comes to the zoo.”  
“Think he'll take you up on it?” asked  
“If they'll let him come,” said William. “If I can get him interested, he may be a naturalist someday. But that's far in the future, I would say the kid was only about five. Far too young to be near that obnoxious prat.”  
“Five?” asked the waiter. “He was a very well-spoken and well-behaved child then. I don't think that he was related to the rest of the crew, but he was sweet.”  
“Why do you think he wasn't related?” asked the hippopotamus keeper.  
“He looked nothing like the rest of them. They were all blonde, but the young one had black hair. Maybe he was a cousin or the like, but I never saw such behavior, especially from the two whales.”  
~O~  
Remus heard about the misadventures of the family during his meal break, but paid little attention. The actions of the three children were interesting, as all cubs were, but they were not his cub. Remus couldn't figure out why he wanted to prank the family. He hadn't even considered pulling a prank since the day that the Potters had been killed, but now something was urging him to take action, and do it immediately. Maybe later, after he had retrieved his cub.  
Remus sighed, glanced at the calendar, and sighed again. Another six weeks until his cub turned eleven, just another six weeks. Never had time dragged so slowly, especially now that he was near enough to almost be able to smell the presence of his cub.


	5. Chapter 5: Thursday, June 20, 1991

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Authors' Note: As promised, the longer chapter.

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Fifteen: To Die, To Sleep– Perchance to Dream  
Thursday, June 20, 1991  
Sirius did not know what time it was. He had started dozing more and more, waiting for the last few months to pass before his penance was complete and he could rejoin his puppy. He thought it was after nightfall, but wasn't certain. His thoughts slipped away as he once again tumbled into an uneasy rest.  
~O~  
A dog walked down a path in the forest. The dog walked, half in light and half in darkness, but always in the center of the path. The dog looked half-starved. Its coat was long and shaggy, matted and unkempt. Despite its rough appearance, a friendly light gleamed in its eyes and its open mouth seemed to smile.  
A stag stepped onto the path from brightly lit woods, bringing the light with him. His antlers were still covered with the softness of growing velvet. His silent approach was welcomed by a bark and a soft waving of a plumed tail. The stag and the dog touched noses and the pair continued onward along the path.  
A bend in the path obscured the view ahead when a dark gray form scurried from one side of the path to the other, never daring to stay on the path. As the dog and stag approached, the form resolved itself into a rat, about two feet tall at the shoulder and four feet from tip of nose to base of tail with a three-foot long scaled tail. The furtive movements of the rat eased as the dog and stag approached. The rat joined the pair in the middle of the road, tail held aloft from the dirt.  
A snarl sounded from the dark forest, deep and menacing. From the forest stalked a wolf, large and lean. As the wolf approached the three already on the path, the dog sprang at it but turned aside to gently buffet the wolf's shoulder with its own. The wolf growled. The stag lowered its head to touch noses with the wolf. The rat also greeted the wolf with a chattering cry.  
As the quartet traveled the velvet covering the stag's antlers began to bleed and the antlers showed through. Soon the stag bore a proud rack of antlers, but no doe was there to see them. His loud, low-pitched bugle sounded across the forest on both sides of the path. Again and again the stag called, but no doe appeared.  
The trio walked on and a bat fluttered out of the forest. Not long after the bat appeared, a doe strode out of the forest to stand beside the point where the bat hovered. The dog barked, but the bat would not leave the doe. The wolf howled, but the bat still would not leave. The rat chattered at the bat, but it responded with high pitch squeaks that caused the rat to fall back. Finally, the stag approached and tried to court the doe. The bat came between the stag and the doe, but scratched a shallow groove in the doe's back. With a snort, the doe shook the bat from her back and ran to the stag. The bat lingered on a branch, watching the doe.  
As the group moved on, the bat would flutter near but never with the group, always staying near the doe. The others began to ignore the bat, and it fluttered closer. Suddenly a beam of light shone from the daylit forest, causing the bat to lose its bearings and flutter away from the group and into the dark forest.  
Another bend in the road and the stag and doe were accompanied by a fawn, small and spotted. The wolf and the dog lay with the fawn as the adult deer browsed on the underbrush. The bat fluttered out of the darkened forest, nearer and nearer the doe and finally came to a rest near her again until startled by another flack of light.  
From the forest of light, a brighter flash startled the deer. They faced that direction just long enough for a green light from the dark forest now behind them to strike, and they fell down. The fawn was left calling for its lost parents. The dog and the wolf did their best to comfort the fawn as the rat stood guard, but another flash from the bright forest stunned the wolf, the dog, and the rat and held them immobile while the fawn vanished.  
The dog was bound in chains and thrown into the dark forest. Despite its snarling and snapping, the dog never struggled against the chains themselves.  
The wolf sought the trail of the missing fawn but howled mournfully when the trail could not be found.  
The rat fled and cowered near the edge of the road, scenting the air currents for a trace of the fawn.  
A blur of motion and a young stag emerged from the bright forest, carrying shadows as he came.  
The stag was much smaller than the first two deer and seemed tentative; his ears constantly swiveling to catch the sound of approaching danger. Curled around one of his antlers, though still merely nubs, was a serpent, and along his back were marks of cruel beatings. The stag stepped gingerly onto the path and came to the center, halfway between the two forests. His head lifted, and he uttered the precursor to the bellow of a full-grown deer. In response to the call of the stag, figures emerged from the forest.  
Out of the dark forest struggled the dog, still wearing its chains, but whining a welcome. Out of the bright forest stalked the wolf, growling gently as it approached. From the edge of the road, the rat came, cowering and quivering. From its post above the road, the bat fluttered down and settled on the road between the rat and the stag.  
The young stag collapsed, but the dog, now free of its chains and the wolf sprang to either side and supported the stag until it could once more stand on its own. Each of the four was welcomed by the young stag. Together, the five walked down the path, never veering to dark or light. Periodically, the stag would stumble over nothing, but the dog and wolf supported him until he was stable.  
A blur of motion. The young stag was young no longer. His antlers were the size of those of a large deer but looked somewhat ridiculous on his small form. The wolf, the dog, the bat, and the rat accompanied the stag as he faced a dragon made of light and another of darkness.  
A flash of light and a flash of darkness and a crossroads appeared on the path. The stag took one branch and his companions took another; but, as they parted, the two forests merged and the lighted forest had shadows beneath the leaves and the dark forest was no more.  
~O~  
Friday, June 21, 1991  
Sirius woke with a start. He knew that he had been dreaming, but the dream seemed to indicate that his puppy was not being protected properly. That should be impossible. His puppy was protected; that was the reason for the godfather ceremony. To ensure his puppy's protection from those who would harm him. Uneasily, Sirius fell back into his scant pile of covers.  
~O~  
“Are you done sulking, Padfoot?” asked a stag, emerging from the wall of the cell.  
“I think that Sirius is enjoying his role as martyr, James,” said the doe that peered out of the wall behind the stag.  
“Well, sulk or martyrdom, it's enough. It isn't your fault, Padfoot. The ritual was our idea. Yes, you tried to warn us, but ultimately it was our decision.”  
“You're dead,” said Sirius, blinking at the sight of the two deer in his cell.  
“Of course we are, Padfoot. Anyone struck by the killing curse dies,” replied the stag, “Well, except for Harrison, but he is a special case.”  
“What does being dead have to do with anything, Sirius? All it does is expand your horizon. Just ask any portrait about death. They'll tell you that.”  
“Philosophical in your post-mortal state, Lils?”  
The doe entered the cell fully, glowing faintly with the green light characteristic of the killing curse. “Sirius, I was philosophical in my mortal state. Why should I change?”  
Sirius gaped but did not reply.  
“So, Padfoot, why are you still here? Lily and I being killed was never your fault. Why are you here?”  
“It was my fault,” insisted Sirius. “I should have warned you; I had warning of what would happen that night, but I couldn't tell you in terms you could understand. I tried,” he sobbed. “I really tried. I'm a bad friend and a worse godfather, I couldn't save you.”  
“Padfoot,” snapped the stag, “I know very well that you warned us about that night. You know what they say about the looking into the past.”  
“Sirius,” soothed the doe, “please, accept our forgiveness. You did your best as a friend. And, please, look after Harrison. He needs you.”

Chapter Sixteen: In Death of Sleep What Dreams May Come  
Thursday, June 20, 1991  
Arcturus Black, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, had insomnia. Not an uncommon ailment since his heir had been thrown into Azkaban. He stared at the underside of the canopy. The usual soothing effect of the constellations were absent tonight. He felt old more often than not, these days. Losing his son to darkness was bad enough, but losing his grandson without an opportunity to speak with him was worse.  
Sitting up in bed, Arcturus looked at the tapestry that decorated the wall of his bedchamber. The Sleeper was meant to be suggestive of rest, and the lush surroundings was supposed to temper the cares of the day. Nonetheless Arcturus was having trouble sleeping. It wasn't because of concerns with the Wizengamot, although that was definitely a concern; but concern for his grandson and heir, Sirius Black. The boy had been sorted into Gryffindor, much to Walburga's disgust, but Arcturus fully believed that the sorting had been accurate. No other reason than sheer stupid bravery would be sufficient to hold his son in Azkaban.  
The wizarding prison was a hell on earth now, but more than a thousand years ago it had been a stronghold of the family that became known as the Black Family. No Black could be held in its confines without their tacit approval, and an innocent could not give that approval. Yet Sirius was innocent of the charges against him, Arcturus was sure of that. Somehow, Sirius must have felt sufficiently guilty about the deaths of James and Lily Potter that he felt it right that he remain in Azkaban.  
“Fool,” snorted Arcturus under his breath. “Stubborn Gryffindor to the bone. Blacks always have that stubbornness. I just wish...” his voice trailed off as he fell asleep.  
~O~  
Arcturus stood at a crossroads. Three paths diverging from the point beneath his feet. One of the paths led to a bright forest; the trees themselves shining with light. Another path led to a forest as dark as the first was light; the leaves of all of plants seemed to suck in the light and shimmer at the edge of visibility. The final path led to a forest that appeared perfectly normal, light from above struck the leaves and shadows fell on the plants below.  
“Choose a path,” said a female voice, young and light.  
“Must I?” asked Arcturus.  
“Choose a path,” said another female voice, mature and deadly with menace.  
“Why?” asked Arcturus.  
“Choose a path,” said a third female voice, wavering and cracking with age.  
“A Black is always balanced,” said Arcturus, and started on the path to the normal forest with its light and shadows intermixed.  
“Well chosen, child,” the voices said in unison.  
“Prepare to succor the dog, he comes wounded,” said the mature voice.  
“Contact his brothers, the wolf and the rat; they will aid,” the elderly voice quavered.  
“Protect his child, for the child is hope,” contributed the young female voice.  
“Protect the balance, for the balance returns at last,” contributed the mature voice.  
“The light strikes against the dark, and both war against the balance,” hummed the elderly voice.  
“The balance will prevail whether soon or late, but the destroyer comes until the balance returns. Protect the balance. Black balances White, Light balances Dark, Life balances Death. Renew the balance for the life of all,” and the three voices went silent.  
~O~  
Arcturus awoke and sat up in the bed. The posts that supported the canopy at the foot of the bed had been carved to appear as torches in flame. A lovely bit of enchantment allowed the flame to flicker and burn when the occupant was awake. Arcturus stared at the torches and whispered, “Three? Hekate? A dog, a wolf and a rat? A stag?” His voice strengthened, “Sirius? How many years? Of course!” He got out of bed and called for his personal house elf, “Matilda!”  
“What can Tildy be doing for Master Arcturus?” asked the house elf, popping into the room, her wizened form clad in a pristine white pillowcase embroidered with the Black family crest.  
“Prepare the heir's quarters for my grandson.”  
“Yes, Master Arcturus,” she said before popping away.  
Donning his dressing gown, Arcturus walked to the Black Family library. Reaching the index, he asked for books on Azkaban. The library returned a stack of four books, including the book about the construction of Azkaban before its second life as a prison.  
“Heart's Ease,” Arcturus muttered, “ironic that Eochaid's refuge has become a place of torture for my heir. I'll bet that the Ministry never bothered to change the keys.” He snorted, “Unlikely that they would go to the trouble. How frequently does the heir find himself in prison. As soon as he feels the price has been paid, he will leave that place, I must be prepared for his coming.”  
Arcturus reached for a quill and began a list: Nutrient potions. Dreamless sleep? “Maybe not.” Healer? “Heilende Durian, of course. He's discrete.” Contact the boy's friends. “What was that boy's name?”  
~O~  
June 1, 1975  
Lord Charlus Potter fire-called Lord Arcturus Black each other at least once per month to exchange the tales their heirs told of their latest adventures their heirs had managed to find at Hogwarts.  
“Did Sirius write you about their friend Remus Lupin?” asked Charlus.  
“Yes, and I know the boy is a werewolf,” replied Arcturus.  
“That explains things during the Yule break somewhat,” mused Charlus, smirking slightly.  
“Okay, Charlus, come through. I've got to hear the reason behind that smirk.”  
“You didn't notice while you were here?”  
“Call me a fond grandfather, but I was more interested in Sirius than his love affairs.”  
“Then you didn't notice the Grim that was hanging around the edges of the lawn shortly after you arrived?”  
“Yes, but I thought it must be another of your pets. After all, you had a stag peacefully eating out of your wife's hand.”  
“True, he ate an entire Buche de Noel before Matilda caught up with him,” Charlus said, his grin becoming even more evil.  
“And...”  
“The stag was my son, and the Grim was your grandson.”  
“What? Why didn't you tell me earlier?” Arcturus demanded.  
“Watching you was fun,” said Charlus. “Besides, they did it for the most Gryffindor of reasons. A werewolf will not attack an animagus in animal form. Now that Belby has perfected a Wolfsbane potion that allows a werewolf to keep their human mind during the full moon, I'm going to have to buy rights to the thing.”  
“Because otherwise you'll have a feral werewolf on your hands at the full moon?”  
“Exactly.”  
~O~  
June 21, 1991  
“Ah, yes,” murmured Arcturus. “Remus Lupin. I should have remembered that. I'll wager that the boy still has contacts with Gringotts at least, if only to obtain Wolfsbane each month.”  
“Maximilian!”  
“Yes, Master Arcturus, what can Maxie be doing for you?” asked a male house elf.  
Arcturus sighed, “I wish you would refer to yourself by your full name.” He shook his head as to dispel frustration, “Would you please take this letter to Gringotts and wait for a reply? If the reply will take longer than a few minutes, come back and I will send an owl. It's urgent.”  
“Yes, Master Arcturus, sir,” responded the elf and popped away.  
“What else?” muttered Arcturus. “What am I forgetting? Blast this feeling old!” He stood up from the chair and paced the area around it for several minutes, stopping occasionally to write down an item on the list, but still seemed unsatisfied. “I'm missing something quite obvious.” Another few minutes of pacing and his face lit up, “Of course, Harrison. The boy's puppy! Nothing will help him heal more than seeing his godson, but where is he? Wait for a reply from the goblins, talk to Lupin, and then we'll see.”  
Matilda popped into the library. “Master Arcturus, sir? The heir's quarters are freshened. Do you be needing anything else?”  
“Matilda, where is the last place you would put a magical child?”  
“With muggles, Master Arcturus. With magic-hating muggles.”  
“Thank you, Matilda. I wonder if Dumbledore would be that brilliant and that stupid?”

Chapter Seventeen: Dream a Little Dream of Me  
Thursday, June 20, 1991  
Remus had been contemplating pranks for the past two days. For no reason that he could pinpoint, he had decided that the family that the staff at the zoo had discussed deserved to be tormented with a prank worthy of the Marauders. Although he had not seen their behavior, something abut their scent had been driving Moony slightly berserk. Tonight he had gotten home early and had nothing to anticipate except a few more chapters of translation.  
Moony kept whispering something, and it was driving Remus nuts that he couldn't figure out what his wolf wanted. After several hours of attempting to translate his current project, Remus gave up in disgust and crawled into bed. An hour later, his eyes closed and he was finally able to sleep.  
~O~  
Dream Begins  
The alpha female of the Chessington Zoo pack approached Remus, nudging a small cub before her. The cub whimpered at the pressure of her nose, and its ribs could be counted through the patchy fur. The cub looked sick, and Remus would have guessed that the cub was almost ready to die.  
Still the alpha female nudged the cub closer to Remus as he stood in his human form. “Watch the cub!” she ordered.  
“I can't,” explained Remus.  
“You have no cub,” she said. “Watch over this one!”  
“I have a cub, but he's missing,” replied Remus.  
“Take this one,” insisted the alpha female. “It needs a good pack to guide and protect it.”  
“Does it seek another pack?” Remus asked.  
“It does not know that such is allowed. Its current pack is cruel. The alphas do not understand the ways of cubs. They do not deserve such a cub.”  
“I do not deserve a cub until after I find my own.”  
“Take this one,” she insisted. “This one will train you for one of your own.”  
“Why would you trust a cub to me? I lost the one for whom I was responsible. How could such as I deserve to train a cub.”  
“Ask for help,” she suggested, grinning in the way that wolves can.  
“From whom?”  
“Dogs are relatives. Perhaps a dog could help. They know the ways of humans better than we. Even you who are wolf only sometimes need assistance to understand the ways of humans.”  
“If the dog is able to help. Perhaps the dog is a better choice for a guardian for the cub.”  
“The cub needs two, and two, and two guardians.”  
“Six guardians? Is the cub in danger?”  
“A cub is always in danger when too young and foolish to know what it faces. A cub gains protection from guardians and strength from the pack. Experience and strength is gained from danger faced with assistance as needed. One does not expect a cub to kill on his first attempt. I do not allow my cubs to hunt alone until they have hunted successfully under my eye.”  
“When will I meet this cub?”  
“Soon and soon, if your lady wills it.”  
~O~  
Friday, June 21, 1991  
Remus jolted awake. He knew that the alpha female from any pack had the right to bestow guardianship on one of the lesser wolves. But why was she so insistent that he take on this one. Her pack had no cubs of the apparent age of the one she attempted to transfer to his care.  
Sighing in confusion, Remus rolled over and pulled the coverlet up to his ears. He needed sleep if he was to work tomorrow. Wriggling his shoulder to plump the pillow and better support his neck, Remus fell back into sleep.  
~O~  
Moony howled at his lady, begging for the return of his cub. Too many times she had come and gone with no trace of his cub. He sensed that his cub was in danger and was determined to find him. Again he howled and realized that his lady had appeared before him. “Please, gracious lady, help me find my cub. I miss him,” whimpered the wolf.  
“You will be with him soon,” said his lady.  
“Over a hundred cycles I have searched. I have kept hunting for a trace of my cub. Please, my lady, where is he?”  
“Soon, faithful one, soon.”  
Moony settled into a watchful pose, ears and nose alert for the slightest trace of his cub, but his cub did not appear. Instead the alpha female from the Chessington pack stalked out of the darkened wood made all the darker by the brilliance of the moon.  
“Come, wanderer,” she said.  
“I must wait for my cub,” he replied.  
“Wait with the pack. The pack brings comfort.”  
“Still I must wait for my cub.”  
“Foolish wanderer,” she snarled. “Have you not smelled your cub? Have you no nose at all? Has the two-leg within you deadened your senses?” She snapped at him impatiently, “Come! I have a cub I need you to tend.”  
Moony sighed and got up, “Yes, alpha, I come. Show me this cub.”  
~O~  
Friday, June 21, 1991  
Again Remus was jolted out of his dream. His wolf had smelled his cub? Was that what had been driving him mad all week? Realizing that it must be so, he was determined to return to the zoo and hopefully find his cub. But, first, he must get more sleep. It had been a long day, and he needed the rest. Remus snuggled into his pillow, reassured somewhat now that he had a plan, if only the suggestion of his goddess and the alpha female of the pack in a dream.  
~O~  
Remus stood at the edge of the wolf enclosure, watching the pack at play. Suddenly a furious battle erupted among the younger members of the pack, and the alpha female stepped in to settle the matter. From the center of the fight, she extracted a small cub and carried it by the loose skin of the neck to Remus. “Watch him,” she ordered.  
“Yes, ma'am,” Remus politely replied.  
The cub was almost too small to be outside of the nursery area, it was tiny, barely half the size of the other cubs.  
“Mother alpha, how old is this cub?” he inquired politely.  
“The same age as the others of course. It is smaller, but it has survived what few are called upon to do. I thought that you would be the best one to watch the cub. It has the same interests as you.”  
Reading? wondered Remus. On his best watching behavior he examined the cub. It was indeed tiny, but also looked half-starved. The cub lay, curled where the alpha had dropped it. Remus, somehow in wolf form, nudged it with his nose. The cub moaned and reluctantly uncurled somewhat. Remus got his first look at the cub's eyes. Always before the cub kept its head lowered as if to protect its vulnerable throat. For a split second, the cub looked up at Remus and Remus was caught in the gaze of a pair of eyes the color of fine emeralds, pure and serene. These were not the eyes of a young cub; no, these were the eyes you would see from someone who had faced death repeatedly and survived to tell the tale.  
~O~  
Friday, June 21, 1991  
Remus jolted awake to the tapping of an owl at his window. A wave of his wand opened the window, allowing the bird entry. The impatient bird deigned to accept an owl treat in return for its delivery and was away. Remus unsealed the letter and read the short note from his account manager at Gringotts: “Mr Lupin, Lord Arcturus Black requested communication with you. The owl will not stay. Indicate your preferred method of communication. Knifeclaw.”  
Remus chuckled at Knifeclaw's usual brevity. He got out of bed, reached under it and extracted a box. The box top opened to reveal a supply of parchment, ink and quill. Remus composed a note to Knifeclaw: “Knifeclaw, Busy. Deliver note. Lupin.” A second note was less brief: “Lord Black, I will be available to speak with you this evening at Gringotts. Ask for Knifeclaw. Respectfully, Lupin.”  
Remus opened another drawer on the box revealing the current Daily Prophet and The Quibbler, removed the newspapers, inserted the notes into the compartment, and closed the drawer.  
Remus yawned, crawled back into bed, pulled the covers up to his nose, and closed his eyes. Three seconds later his eyes snapped open in realization. The alpha female had been trying to get him to watch over a cub, and Remus hadn't recognized his own cub. As Remus wondered how the alpha female knew about his cub, he fell asleep once more.

Chapter Eighteen: The Lonely Dreamer  
Thursday, June 20, 1991  
Far from the other dreamers, Peter Pettigrew's day drew to a close. His day had been the long drudgery of avoiding notice, being tormented by memories, and being afraid. Fear, especially long-term fear, drains the body of energy. A short burst of fear caused the heart to beat harder, the mind to become sharper, the vision and hearing more acute, but long-term fear caused fatigue, dulled thinking, and limited emotions. Peter was a classic example as he longed for the day when his hiding would be over. He was certain that it would be soon, but he could not be absolutely certain. He crawled beneath the several layers of blankets that made up his bed and fell asleep shivering. Whether the shivers were from cold, fear, or anticipation, he could not have said– not even awake. As he finally fell into a deep sleep, Peter's features relaxed. He no longer resembled the slightly pudgy boy from Hogwarts; he had matured, but no one who met him would be able to tell. Peter's sleep was deep for most of the night, but near dawn, he slipped into dreams.  
~O~  
“Time,” intoned a light, youthful voice. “It is time.”  
“Time and past,” commented a second, older voice.  
“Summon the knights; assemble the warriors; the pack must be collected,” said a third voice, and a pool of light appeared around a lit torch.  
“They come,” said the first voice.  
“They always come to the call,” responded the second voice.  
~O~  
Peter stirred in his sleep. A thumping from outside his bed intruded sufficiently to integrate itself into his dream.  
~O~  
“Father of curiosity, father of play, father of mind, and father of heart. Mother of hope, mother of will, mother of wisdom, and mother of power. Gather the fathers; call the mothers; unite the family.”  
The voices stilled and the pool of light grew larger as it revealed a roadway and the tangle of a unkempt hedge. A soft thud sounded in the distance, causing the leaves on the hedge to shiver slightly. A slightly louder thud was accompanied by the appearance of a break in the hedge. The break was filled with swirling silver mist that obscured the figure approaching the hedge until is stepped onto the road. The wolf's fur was almost the same color as the mist, but as it moved away from the hedge the color darkened. The wolf carried a cub, looking too young to be away from its mother, in its jaws. The wolf settled into a waiting position on the road and released the cub to play between its front legs, but the cub huddled against the warm fur and refused to move.  
Some distance from the break in the hedge, a dog appeared, tall and long-haired, and the black hair emitted a strange yellowish glow.  
~O~  
Peter whimpered in his sleep. He recognized that form; it was the ill-omened frame of a grim. It had been a source of great amusement to the Marauders that their most playful member had a form that inspired so much fear. Sirius was the black dog– the guardian who played with the pack, but attacked outsiders ferociously.  
~O~  
The grim approached the wolf and examined the cub cowering against the soft silver fur. The cub, hearing and scenting a new arrival, lifted his head and stared at the black dog. A soft whine, almost pleading, came from the tiny throat and a huge, wet tongue proceeded to wash the cub. The cub responded to the grooming by coming closer to the grim. The grim settled down next to the wolf and continued grooming the cub.  
The impromptu grooming session was interrupted by another thud that shook the leaves on the hedge visibly. A bat, soft black with three foot leathery wings, fluttered over the top of the hedge and settled next to the wolf. The wolf and grim growled a challenge, but the bat ignored them as it walked towards them on thumbs and feet.  
Just as the bat approached the group, another thud sounded, louder and closer. This thud shook the smaller twigs, but the quartet ignored it, too busy examining each other to worry about distant noises. Another thud coincided with the arrival of a rat, scurrying along the edge of the road, equally ready to dash back into the hedge and out into the road.  
As another thud sounded, a stag and a doe walked out of the hedge, their translucent bodies unimpeded by the barrier. As the two approached the wolf and dog, the cub looked out from his safe haven between wolf and dog and whined inquisitively. The wolf swiped the cub with a tongue and gave a reassuring snort. The grim's ears lifted and his tail began to sweep back and forth.  
As the deer came closer, the cub transformed into a fawn, the fawn was still striped and dappled as protection against predators. His transformation was greeted by a pleased bark from the dog. The wolf, being more reserved, gave a whuff and lifted ears as the fawn staggered to his feet and touched noses with the stag to the accompaniment of another thud, somehow more hollow.  
~O~  
Peter stirred almost to wakefulness, and a chain around his neck caught the light as he shifted. However, he subsided back into deeper slumber and slipped back into the dream. The dream landscape shifted as such are prone to do.  
~O~  
A pale glow illuminated a trio of figures seated around a fire, the eldest spoke in a voice wavering with age, “Balance comes.”  
The second figure spoke in a firm voice, “The warriors gather.”  
The third considered the other two a moment then commented, “The lever is in place.”  
~O~  
Peter started awake to a series of thuds that rattled the wall. He struggled for a few moments to distinguish between dream and reality. The thuds resolved themselves into the thumping of a badger shuffling along the edge of the building. The dream faded as he awakened fully, but two things stood out as the rest of the dream faded into mist, the wolf and grim were together again, and the young fawn was alive and would soon join them.  
Peter shuddered, lay back down and tried to get some more sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day, but the day past marked one less day he had to endure until he would be free from terror.


End file.
